The Night of the Wolves
by Andamogirl
Summary: James West and Artemus Gordon's new adventures among the Sioux and the Crow Indians & dangerous hungry wolves.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

Author's note: season 3.

Reference to the WWW episode TNOT Firebrand & TNOT Arrow.

Reference to my story TNOT Missing Children and to TNOT First Mission.

 _Jim_ _: Artie, I've had some experience in situations like this. And I've come to the conclusion that_ _they_ _always catch up with_ _us_ _, when we're in a heavily-loaded wagon.  
_ _Artie_ _: Yeah, why yes it has.  
_ _Jim_ _: Yeah, why yes it has.  
_ _Artie_ _: What's that?  
_ _Jim_ _: Well, if one of us were to stay back heroically with a few sticks of dynamite, the other might just make it to the fort.  
_ _Artie_ _: That's an admirable suggestion. You, you.  
_ _Jim_ _: Me._

TNOT Firebrand.

 _Oconee_ _: West, that meeting you wanted. I'll arrange for it.  
_ _Jim_ _ **:**_ _Why?  
_ _Oconee_ _: Call it my admiration for your style under pressure._

TNOT Arrow.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _The Wanderer_

 _Cheyenne, Territory of Wyoming_

 _Mid-March_

Special agent Artemus Gordon of the US Secret Service Division of the Department of the Treasury looked at his reflection in the big mirror that hung in his sleeping compartment, brushing a few tawny and white cat's hairs from the top of his sleeve. Yes, tawny, not orange, he thought.

He looked at his cat sitting on a stool at his side, Marmalade was staring at him with her amber eyes. She was now tawny and white instead of orange and white. She had changed color in a span of two weeks. She was an adult cat now and had reached her definitive color. He had had cats before, since he was a child, and knew that cats' fur could change color with age,, and Marmie was even fluffier too now, he mused.

He petted Marmalade's head." Human's hair changes color with age too and some people lose them as well, you know," he said, hoping not to have gray hair too fast. He ran a hand through his black curls. "Fortunately, I'm not losing my hair…" He paused, smiled and added, "Now that you're tawny, maybe I should call you "Dulce de leche" or "Confiture de lait…" What do you think? You like it?"

Marmie meowed her disapproval loudly.

He looked again at his reversed image in the mirror and smiled. "That's a no, then."

He was Bluebeard the French-Canadian trapper – once again. He loved that character. Bluebeard was strong, and had a perfect calmness, but could be very angry from time to time, especially when he was bored. He was a man of action, who couldn't bear to do nothing for more than five minutes… He was a good shot, but preferred to use his knife. But he kept his rifle at his side, always.

He had added to his fake-nose a grayish beard and moustache, bushy eyebrows, and had put a touch of gray in his messy hair too.

He was wearing a dirty brown shirt, fringed buckskin jacket and pants and old mud- stained boots. He had a belt with a long knife in a sheath.

He smiled, proud of his disguise. "How do I look?" He asked before turning around, to look at his cat sitting on a stool.

Marmalade lowered her head and let out a disgruntled meow.

He smiled. "I know, I know, you don't like me to disguise myself, it disturbs you…" he said, a finger gently rubbing under the cat's chin, eliciting purrs.

He took up the coonskin cap he had placed on the dresser… revealing AG the kitten rolled in a black fluffy ball under it.

Upset at being disturbed, the mini cat mewled.

Artie smiled."Ah! There you are, AG. Jim has been looking for you for half an hour now." He called, "Jiiim! I found AG! He's here!"

The kitten mewled in displeasure and pawed the hat, the fluffy tail especially.

Petting the tiny feline's head, Artie said. "No, it's mine, AG, it's not a toy." Then he put the hat made with the pelt of a raccoon on his head. He brushed AG's black nose. "You still love me?"

The black kitten flopped on his back, exposing his belly, asking for rubs there. Artemus was more than happy to oblige. "That's a yes."

AG purred and closed his eyes in pleasure.

Leaning on two crutches to keep pressure off of his sprained ankle, James West entered the room a couple of minutes after. He immediately spotted the black, fluffy kitten lying on the dresser, on his back, paws in the air, purring, pawing at Artemus's hand. "Ah! There you are furry buddy."

Artie chuckled. "Are you talking to the kitten or to me, Jim?"

Entering the room, Jim scooped up the mini cat no bigger than his hand, and brought it to his chest. "To AG, but you're quite furry too, Artie." The kitten climbed on his owner's shoulder and butted his head against Jim's jawline, claiming ownership of the human – once again. Then he rubbed his head against Jim's neck, purring. "Well… to my cat. But I have to admit that you have a nice furred hat, Artie. Where was he hiding?" He smiled when the kitten started grooming him, licking the hair behind his ear.

Placing a hand on top of his furred cap Artie responded, "He was under my hat… I think he won your hide and seek game, Jim."

Jim glanced at his best friend's disguise. "You look like a real trapper… " Worried, he frowned. "It's going to be a very dangerous mission, Artie."

The older man nodded. "They are all very dangerous Jim, that's why you and I like to do this job so much, never a dull moment in our lives. We love the thrill, don't we? Don't worry, it's not my first infiltration mission, and I was a spy during the war, remember? Everything's going to be okay."

Jim nodded. "I'm not worried about that, but about you crossing a dangerous territory you don't know, filled with large groups of hostile and aggressive Sioux which have left their reservation."

Nodding, Artie said, "They have a good reason to be aggressive, Jim. The Lakota Sioux consider the Black Hills as the 'sacred center of the world", their world. Since settlers have discovered gold there three years ago, thousands of miners and prospectors came to the area, encroaching on the Lakota lands, leading to heightened tensions and conflicts between Indians and the whites. The Lakota bands are defending their lands, attacking settlers, miners and prospectors they consider as invaders. You know, it's not the Lakota people who broke the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 exempting the Black Hills or - Paha Sapa - in the Lakota language, from all white settlement forever… The Army does its best to stop the skirmishes, but I fear that one day, it will escalate into battles and then into a war."

Jim smiled broadly, pressing his partner's shoulder, proudly. "Artemus Gordon, friend and defender of the Indians…"

Raising a finger, Artie added, "And adoptive Comanche and Crow called Strong Bear." Placing a reassuring hand on his best friend's arm, Artemus said, "Speaking of Crow, Lakota are in constant conflict with the Crow, as they want to hunt on the buffalo ranges to the east, in the Powder River area, where the Crow reservation is…" He smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll be very careful, Jim. Besides, I won't be alone on the way to Fort Randolph, it's located 10 miles away from Casper. and a captain of the cavalry will accompany me there, so that I do not get lost in the Laramie Mountains and freeze to death like I almost did the last time I was in the north of the Wyoming territory …"

Still worried, Jim nodded. "Without mentioning the mountain lion which almost mauled you and devoured you back then."

Petting AG's head, Artie said, "I know. But Colonel Richmond told us the man has the strength of ten, is very good shot and knows how to use a knife better than an Indian... I'll be safe."

Jim sighed, not feeling any better. "I know. But I should come with you… I don't like you going on solo missions. I won't be there to help you in case something bad happens… and I wouldn't want to jinx anything, but every time we're apart have serious problems and end up injured… "

Picking up his thick buffalo fur coat from a chair, Artie shook his head. "It happens when we are working together too … And you can't go with me. You have a sprained ankle and you can't walk. I don't need a whole regiment to guide me to the Fort, Jim. One man of his kind is enough. I'm wondering why the Colonel didn't tell us his name… Maybe because we know him, and he wanted to surprise us… But his description doesn't ring a bell… Perhaps he's one of your friends. Anyway, you're going to stay here, Jim. You need to rest." He put on his coat. "And take care of the cats," he added with a smile.

Suddenly someone knocked at the door. "It's probably your escort, the mysterious captain;" Jim said, and then followed by Artemus as he headed toward the parlor suite, AG perched on his shoulder, claws embedded in the material of his burgundy smoking jacket.

Marmalade left the sleeping compartment in her turn and padded behind her owner along the narrow walkway. She leapt on the couch and sat there, waiting, ears erect in curiosity.

Placing AG on the couch, beside his adoptive mama, Jim watched his partner open the door, revealing a tall and massive cavalry officer who was standing on the rear platform.

More than surprised James West opened his eyes wide, blinked and let out, "I just can't believe it! Look who's here! Kirk 'Mountain' Kallikrates!" Then he grinned and joined Artemus. He pointed at the military man. "We were in the same regiment during the war. He was sergeant in my company before I become General Grant's aide de camp. He was my shadow, always at my side protecting me… You got promoted Kal! You were First Lieutenant the last time we met in Washington. You're a captain now, Congratulations!"

Captain Kallikrates smiled broadly. "Thank you Jim! Did you get promoted too? To Lieutenant-Colonel? Or Colonel?"

Smiling, Jim shook his head. "No, I'm still a Major."

Kallikrates frowned, puzzled. "Where is your uniform?"

The two friends hugged for a few seconds, then parting from the other man, Jim glanced at Artie who was sending him a questioning look. He explained, "Kal saved my life at the battle of Vicksburg. It's a long story… To answer your question, I'm a special agent of the Secret Service now, Kal, I don't need to wear a uniform anymore."

Kallikrates nodded. "So you're a special agent of the Secret Service, huh?… And I thought that you would end up general… That job must be real exciting to have left the Army for. You loved being a soldier."

Smiling, Jim nodded. "I did yes… past tense. I know now why Colonel Richmond, our CO didn't tell us who was coming to fetch Artemus…He knows that we are good friends." He beamed. "It's a wonderful surprise. I'm so happy to see you again, Kal!"

The Captain pointed at Jim's crutches. "You're hurt Jim! What happened to you?"

Artie smirked. "One week ago he slipped on an ice sheet, exactly where you stand and he fell on the platform of the New York Railway Station… he sprained his right ankle."

The cavalry officer looked at Artemus from head to toe. "You're the man I have to escort to the fort?... Are you a special agent too?"

Glancing at Artie in full-trapper-disguise, Jim nodded. "Yes, he is. This is my partner and best friend Artemus Gordon… He was General Grant's liaison officer in charge of communications with the other generals under his command. Perhaps you met?"

Looking at his best friend, Artie smiled. Since they had met, Jim had kept the cover he had used during the war, intact. He knew that people out there, ancient confederates, nostalgic for the Great South would have liked to hang a union spy like him to the nearest tree if they met one.

Kallikrates looked down at Artemus, frowning. "No, I don't. But I can't remember all the officers I met during the war, Jim." He offered his hand to Artie who shook it. "A pleasure, Sir."

Artemus smiled. "Likewise…" he said, rubbing his aching hand that the giant had just bruised. "Kallikrates, it's a Greek name…" and he pronounced it in Ancient Greek, "Καλλικράτης. Kallikrates was a famous architect who designed the Temple of Athena Nike on the Athenian Acropolis and, with Ictinus, the Parthenon. I visited it when I was a young man… It's so beautiful!"

Kallikrates nodded. "My parents are from Ἀθῆναι / Athễnai, Athens. They love the Parthenon too, so they gave me that name." He smiled. "Do you speak ancient Greek Mr. Gordon?"

Artemus nodded. "Among other languages, yes. I have the gift of being able to learn a language very easily and very quickly. For example, I learned the Crow language in three weeks."

Kallikrates was very surprised. "Really?"

Jim nodded. "And of course, my partner here doesn't look like that usually, Kal, but he disguised himself as a trapper to infiltrate the Canadian criminal orga…"

Clearing his throat loudly, Artie interrupted Jim. "It's a secret mission."

But Jim waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, it's okay. Kal's not going to tell anyone, Artie. We can trust him. I was saying that he has disguised himself as a trapper to infiltrate the Canadian criminal organization operating on the border between the Dakota Territory of Wyoming. Their leader called Gary O'Donnell was recently seen with a dozen of his men at the border with those two territories, in Red River Town. Artemus is going to start his mission there. O'Donnell is selling rifles to the bands of Sioux which are attacking settlers, miners and prospectors in the Black Hills, in exchange for gold nuggets – gold nuggets that the Lakota found in the rivers… And then, once Artie has located O'Donnell and his men, he will contact the Secret Service so all of the people working for him can be arrested by the soldiers posted in the area. The President wants those conflicts to cease, before they escalate into a war."

Kallikrates nodded. "Okay…I won't tell anyone, Jim, I promise." He smiled, very impressed. "Very good disguise Mr. Gordon. I would have sworn that you were a real trapper. It looks so authentic…"

Pleased to hear that, Artie smiled. "Thank you, Captain, that's the point." He looked at the gray sky. It was 'full of snow'. "Give me five minutes, and I will join you." He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Goodbye, Jim. Take care. I will send you a telegram once I'm at Fort Randolph. See you in two weeks."

He kissed Marmalade and AG's heads, petted them a few seconds – touched his nose to the cat's and then headed toward the stable car to saddle his horse, Lockpick.

Kallikrates looked at the gray clouds in his turn. "There's snow on the way…" then he looked at Jim again and added noticing that the other man was worried. "Don't worry, Jim. I'll take _good care_ of your partner and best friend. He's in good hands."

Smiling, Jim patted Kallikrates's shoulder. "Yes I know. I trust you, Kal."

Tbc.


	2. Act One Part One

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 **Part one**

 _Much later,_

 _In the evening_

 _Laramie Mountains_

Grimacing, snowflakes stinging his eyes, Kallikrates dismounted, sinking up to his knees in the snow. He pointed at the small entrance to a cave, partially hidden by a dead tree trunk. "There's a cave here. We're going to spend the night inside."

Relieved Artemus nodded. "It's a very good thing that you knew where that cave was, Captain. I wasn't very enthusiastic about spending the night lying in the cold under trees, wrapped in a blanket… I'm freezing." He slid off his horse and grabbing his Winchester from its scabbard.

He followed the officer toward the dark opening. He entered the cave in his turn, carefully, hoping not to find a grizzly bear inside, or a lone wolf, or a mountain lion.

He sighed in relief. It was empty.

Captain Kallikrates looked around him and spotted the furtive silhouettes of wolves moving behind a group of trees. He hid a smile, joined Artie and said, "Let's find something to make a fire… Do you have a match box Mr. Gordon? I forgot mine."

Looking around him, in the dim light, at the rocky bare walls and ground, Artie replied, "It's very imprudent with this awful weather. Yes, I have one, in my saddle bag." He pointed at the back wall and added, "We're lucky, I can see dry pieces of wood over there – remnants from the past occupants of the place." He leaned his Winchester 73 against the icy wall of the cave and added, "Whoever they were."

Kallikrates nodded. "Lakotas maybe, or some trappers. There's a river filled with beavers about five miles from here."

Once he was outside again, Artie took the matchbox from his saddle bag, then removed it along with the saddle and saddle blanket.

He unrolled the blanket and covered his horse with it. Lockpick nuzzled his master's hair as a thank you and huffed in his face.

Rubbing his gelding's velvety nose, smiling, Artemus didn't notice the wolves hiding behind the nearby trees, ready to attack.

The horses didn't either. The wind was blowing in the opposite direction, moving the scents of the silent beasts away from them.

Patting the gelding's head with affection Artie smiled and said, "Keep your eyes open big boy… those woods are filled with gray wolves."

Lockpick nodded and neighed.

Artemus came back into the cave and found Kallikrates sitting cross-legged in front of a small pile of branches. "I have the match box." He gave it to the cavalry officer who started a fire a few seconds later. "You should take care of your horse, it's freezing outside."

Kallikrates stood, looking at Artemus, disappointed. Artie noticed it and wondered why. He shrugged and sat cross-legged beside the fire.

The Captain headed toward the opening of the cave.

One minute later Artie was throwing branches in the fire when he heard the horses neigh in fright and a series of low menacing growls. "Wolves," he said and he immediately stood, reaching out to take his rifle… but it wasn't leaning against the wall of the cave, anymore. "What?"

He heard gunshots coming from outside.

He frowned, puzzled. Kallikrates had taken his rifle… but why? He had a rifle too, he thought.

His sixth sense kicking in he turned around and felt his hair stand on end – he was facing two wolves which had entered the cave in stealth mode.

He took a couple of steps back and grabbed his knife.

Growling deep and loud, baring their fangs, the wolves circled the human slowly. Suddenly, the bigger one, a powerful male leaped.

Falling backward to the hard, rocky, ground, Artemus found himself with the gray beast perched on top of him, pinning him to the floor, looming over him with bared fangs, snarling.

He lifted his knife but the second wolf, a female, closed its jaws around his right arm – catching the sleeve of his thick coat.

He cursed as he couldn't use his knife.

He punched the wolf standing on top of him, hard, with all his might, with a steel fist and, and then, as the predator was moving back, surprised, he kicked it, before rolling toward the fire – the other wolf still chewing his sleeve.

There were shots fired outside.

Kallikrates was firing at the wolves, he thought as he grabbed a some of the burning wood in his left gloved hand.

He threw it toward the male wolf, which instantly and sensibly retreated and snapped its sharp teeth at him angrily, slobbering.

Brandishing another piece of flaming wood, Artemus managed to get rid of the female wolf and stood, panting. "Kallikrates! Help!" he called.

But the Captain didn't show up to help him. The other man was still firing – killing other wolves, he thought, holding his knife tightly, facing the two furred beasts.

The male attacked again first: it leaped at Artemus, barreling him over and forcing the breath from his lungs. Snarling savagely the wolf lunged forward to strike at his throat for a kill… and Artie, in pure reflex, plunged the long blade into the wolf's throat.

Howling in pain, blood spilling, the animal moved back before crumpling to the ground, deadly wounded. The female let out a surprised yelp before growling, fangs barred...

Moving on his knees, exhausted, the special agent brandished his bloody knife threateningly. "Go away, or I'm going to kill you too!" he said.

The light gray female snapped its jaws at him and left.

Gasping for breath, trembling with delayed fear, Artie sat heavily on the floor and dropped his head, shoulders hunched, trying to get his breathing back to normal. Once his heart had stopped beating furiously against his ribcage, he made a quick survey of his body – fortunately he wasn't injured.

He sighed in relief. That was close.

Kallikrates entered the cave shortly after, holding two Winchesters – and looked very surprised to see that Artie was still alive and apparently intact. "Are you alright?"

Standing on unsteady legs, Artemus nodded. "I'm fine." He glanced at the dead wolf, then looking up at the bulky tall and bulky officer, upset. "Why did you take my Winchester?"

Kallikrates smiled at Artie. "Before I came in the cave I thought I saw wolves lurking around, behind the trees. When heading out, I took your rifle, just in case ... two rifles are better than one, and I did well, because I managed to push back a whole pack… But unfortunately, two wolves came inside here… and you killed one with a knife, that's impressive. You're good."

Standing, Artemus grabbed his rifle and said angrily, "Next time – if there's a next time and I hope not - ask permission before taking my weapon. I was almost devoured alive!" then he headed toward the entrance of the cave to see if Lockpick was okay.

Kallikrates spat on the ground, upset. "It is always necessary to do things oneself to be sure that they are done correctly..."

He then smiled cruelly.

WWW

 _The next morning_

 _on the way to Fort Randolph_

 _Laramie Mountains_

It was snowing.

It had been snowing continuously for two hours and the curtain of fat, damp flakes was so thick and dense that they could not see anything beyond a few steps in front of them.

Everything was white, the sky, the ground, the nature all around them. The horses were moving slowly in the thick layer of powdery snow that covered the path. The wind blew snow directly into their faces, making it difficult to see.

Captain Kallikrates halted his horse. "There's a bridge ahead, over the river. With all that snow it's impossible to see it, unless you're on it…"

Pulling on the reins, Artemus halted his gelding. He brushed the thick snowflakes out his light, fake beard, now regretting having shaved his thick, real beard a few weeks earlier. It would have kept him warm. "That's why I can't see it…" he said, his breath coming out in little puffs. He removed his furred hat and brushed off the snow that had accumulated on top of it. Then, he placed it back on his head and said, "You go first, Captain, I'll be right behind you."

Kallikatres hit his horse's flanks and the chestnut mare moved slowly ahead.

Artie followed the other man closely.

Once on the bridge – they could hear the wood crack under their weight and the wild water flowing.

Curious, Artie asked, "What's the name of this river?"

Kallikrates halted his horse again and when Artie came up level with him, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the federal agent. "Hands up!"

Frowning, puzzled, Artemus frowned. "What are you doing?"

Kallikrates cocked the hammer of his revolver. "I protect my interests. Do you know why the Cavalry never succeeded in arresting the men selling arms to the Indians?"

Raising his hands, Artie said, "Let me guess, because you are their accomplice and you inform them of the different patrols. Why Captain? For money?"

Captain Kallikrates nodded. "Very good. Yes, for money, Mr. Gordon. The man I work for, Gary O'Donnell, gives me money so that he can continue what he's doing. I want money to leave this ice-cold hell, where I'm stuck. When I have enough of it, I shall resign my commission and go to sunny California, where I will buy a ranch with some livestock. I will live very happily there... But before that, I have to kill you. I can't let you carry out your assignment."

Kallikrates was ready to pull the trigger when Lockpick knowing that his owner was in mortal danger moved to one side, bumping heavily into the other horse and unbalancing Kallikrates.

The cavalry officer didn't fall from his saddle but fired upwards unintentionally, in the air before losing his grip on his gun, letting it drop in the snow. The best defense being attack, Artie seized the occasion to jump on top of the other man.

They both crashed hard, heavily, on the snow covered bridge and the two horses immediately moved away to give them room.

In the momentum, Artie lost his coonskin hat.

In a flash, the two men stood and faced each other. Kallikrates attacked first. The rock-hard punch hit Artemus full on the jaw and sent him sprawling onto the snow – and his head impacted, very hard, with one of the poles in the bridge railing. He went down like a stone.

The massive man grinned savagely. "I'm going to kill you with my bare hands," and headed straight for the federal agent.

Seeing stars, Artemus stood, and staggered, tensing up. He couldn't stop a left hook to the sternum which knocked the air out of his lungs and forced him to his knees.

Kallikrates chuckled mockingly. "And I thought special agents were tough guys…" and watched Artemus standing, swaying on his legs, dazed.

Kallikrates moved on Artemus like a raging bull. But Artie ducked under the officer's powerful swing, stepped inside his reach and buried a fist in his opponent's gut.

Kallikrates smiled, that's all. No effect. He grabbed his adversary by his shoulders, threw his head back to smash the nose of the other man with a snarl.

Grunting, Artie fell backward onto a thick layer of snow, sporting a bleeding nose. The Captain snickered. "Your horse fights better than you do…" He said, mockingly.

His vision graying around the edges, Artie stayed down, panting, and realized that he had something metallic under his hand – Kallikrates's gun.

He grabbed it and immediately pointed it at the Captain, "Move back!" he ordered.

The giant officer was very surprised, then swearing under his breath, his face contorted in anger, he backed away, slowly, his eyes murderous.

He was so angry that he reverted to his maternal language, Greek and said, "Θα σε σκοτώσω! I'm going to kill you!" he translated, for Artemus.

Unfazed Artemus said, "You don't need to translate, I speak modern Greek too – and you're not going to kill me, Kallikrates."

Grimacing in pain, with all the strength he could muster Artemus used the the railing of the bridge to help him stand, his arms shaking.

After a few seconds, he hauled himself back to his feet, fighting looming blackness.

He knew that if he lost consciousness, he wouldn't wake up and end up dead. He took a series of deep breath and tightened his grip on the Colt's butt, his hand trembling.

He smiled when he felt Lockpick nuzzle his hair in a sign of affection. That's a good boy, you saved my life, thanks. Back on board the Wanderer I will give you an entire bucket of carrots and apples - blackjack will be jealous!"

Kirk Kallikrates spat at his feet. "I'm still going to kill you," he repeated his eyes dark and cold. "You can barely stand on your feet, Gordon. You're weak."

Now fighting a pounding headache and weakening further, Artie gritted his teeth. "Turn around… " and he took the rope off his horse's saddle.

Kallikrates complied docilely, lowering his hands, opening his coat discreetly… and, in a split second he pulled out a knife from his belt.

His sixth sense warning him of immediate danger, Artie said, "Hands up!"

But it was already too late.

Kallikrates whirled around to face Artemus again, holding a knife – a knife he threw at Artie with a primal grunt to accompany his movement - at the same time the other man pulled the trigger.

Hit square in his chest, right in his heart, the Captain collapsed without a noise. He was dead seconds before he hit the snow.

Artemus felt the blade cut through the flesh of his right shoulder. He cried out in pain and stumbled a couple of times.

Tears blurred his vision as he collapsed on the spot, the world going black, as he passed out, landing on the thick blanket of fresh snow.

Tbc.


	3. Act One Part Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 **Part two**

 _Later_

Lockpick nuzzled Artemus's face for long minutes before the special agent let out a moan and opened his eyes, slowly, very slowly.

His aching head throbbed. But it was nothing compared to the searing pain burning hot in his right shoulder. He reached for it with his hand and gasped when he brushed the handle of the knife protruding from his shoulder, the blade being deeply embedded in his flesh.

He cried out in pain and tears began to roll down his flushed face.

He remembered everything in a split second and groaned. "Artie, old boy… you really are a magnet for trouble," he breathed. "God! It hurts!"

Artie shivered. Despite a high fever, he was cold. He couldn't stay like that, immobile in the snow, under the falling snow. It was a sure way to die from hypothermia.

He placed his hand on the handle of the knife ready to pull it out – but stopped in at the last moment. "Do that… and… and _you'll… start… a major hemorrhage._ _Very bad idea."_

He attempted to rise but a wave of nausea welled up in his throat. He somehow managed to prop himself onto an elbow and vomited to one side.

Once he was done, Artemus pulled himself into a sitting position and cried out, his wound sending out electrical jolts of pain across his whole body. "Owwwww!"

He took a series of deep breaths, to prevent the bile pooling in the back of his throat from welling up and glanced at his injured shoulder. Bloody snowflakes were mingled with the hairs of his buffalo fur coat, covered with sticky blood. He winced and let out, "Come on Artie… let's go home."

Grabbing Lockpick's mane, then his neck – when the gelding lowered his head - he managed to stand and leaned heavily against his horse, panting, his knees trembling.

He glanced at Kirk Kallikrates's, lying in a reddened area of snow, a thin layer of snowflakes covering his inert, lifeless body. "Got you…" he said and put his foot in the stirrup.

He hauled himself up, causing him to scream out loudly and he sat on his snow-covered saddle, leaning over Lockpick's warm neck, big black spots pervading his vision. "Don't… pass… out," he let out through gritted teeth feeling intense pain pulsing from his wound. He was shaky and his vision was going hazy… "No, hang on…" He said to himself, breathless. "Hang… on. Or you're dead…"

Gripping the reins in one hand, he kicked the gelding's sides. Lockpick started a slow pace conscious that his owner was hurt.

But pain exploded anyway.

He let out a strangled cry feeling a tearing agony in his right shoulder. His breath ragged, he realized that his field of vision was rapidly narrowing. Unconsciousness was inevitable and then hypothermia and then death, he thought. "No… no, I don't want to die…" But he closed his eyes and passed out. He slid to the side and dropped like a stone on the side of the bridge, face first in a thick layer of icy snowflakes.

Lockpick suddenly turned around, hearing someone walk in the crispy snow. He reared and neighed, shaking his head – protecting Artemus.

The old trapper raised a soothing hand, "Easy me boy, I'm not going to hurt a fellow trapper, but help him, if he's still alive."

Lockpick huffed, skeptical. But he moved to the side and let the other human head toward his owner. The old man knelt on the snow and rolled Artemus onto his back. He cringed seeing a big pool of blood tainting the snow in red.

He reached out, brushing the snow from the other man's neck and face and pressed two fingers to Artie's throat feeling for a pulse. "Boy, you're master is a fighter, he's still alive. It's a good thing for him I was setting beaver traps in the river when I heard the shot… and came here to see what happened… I'm going to build a travois and take you to fort Randolph."

Locpick nuzzled Artemus's face in a comforting way.

He looked behind him, at the cadaver, covered with snow. "And him too."

WWW

 _Much later, at Fort Randolph_

Colonel Sanderson, commanding officer of Fort Randolph pulled the blanket over Kirk Kallikrates's dead body, lying naked, on a table of the infirmary.

Upset, puzzled, he looked at Major Powel, the Chief Medical Officer. "I'd like to know what really happened on that bridge…"

Peter Powel nodded. "Me too, Harry. That trapper, Jack O'Malley, think they attacked each other – as there was no evidence of anyone else being there. And I removed Kal's knife from Gordon's shoulder... and there's a missing bullet in Kal's gun. The one I probably removed from his body."

Colonel Sanderson moved toward the other side of the room where Artemus Gordon, was laid on a bed, as white as the sheets. "You and I have known Kal for years, Peter. He's a good, kind, generous man, always ready to help others... Why would he have tried to kill Artemus Gordon?" He heaved a long sigh. "It's incomprehensible." He paused. "How is Mr. Gordon?"

Powel joined his best friend and said, "He was very, very, lucky. He lost a lot of blood as an artery was cut, but I managed to fix it. Fortunately no organs nor any major nerve endings were affected, so there shouldn't be any lasting damage to his shoulder. He's going to be fine – but not before a while I'm afraid. He'll tell us what happened when he wakes up."

Colonel Sanderson nodded. "I have sent a telegram to his CO, Colonel Richmond, in Washington to tell him the meager information I have. He sent me a telegram back telling me that Artemus Gordon's partner James West should be here within 24 hours. He's actually in Cheyenne. I sent Sergeant Miller to guide him here. I hope everything will be alright."

The surgeon took Artie's wrist in his hand and took his pulse. "It's the first time I have seen a special agent of the Secret Service… He doesn't look that redoubtable…"

Sanderson smiled. "Oh but he is, believe me. I met him and his partner at the White House last year. President Grant wouldn't trust them with his life, if they were not."

WWW

 _The next afternoon_

Sitting on the edge of the bed, James West placed a hand on Artie's chest, feeling it steadily rising and falling with each breath, reassuring him that his best friend was still there, that he hadn't gone. Because Artemus Gordon was so pale, almost as white as his pajamas… that he looked dead, he thought. Then he removed Artie's disguise: his fake bushy eyebrows, his fake nose, his fake grayish beard and mustache and placed them on the bedside table.

He smiled. "You're not going to need them anymore… you're mission is canceled, Artie. Someone else will take the case…"

The door opened and the CMO entered.

Immediately Jim looked up at Dr. Powel. "You saved his life, Major, thank you so much!"

Powel smiled. "My pleasure, Mr. West. He was very lucky." He was surprised to see that Artemus's face was far less 'hairy' and spotted all the hairy props settled on the bedside table. "He was disguised… I really thought all that was real… Great job! The illusion was perfect!" Looking at the younger federal agent he added, "The knife didn't hit anything vital so it's expected that he'll make a full recovery. I stitched up the wound neatly and it will leave only a faint scarring. He has lost a lot of blood, so he's going to be as weak as a newborn kitten for a week."

Hearing Artemus let out a moan, Jim took his partner's hand in his and said, "Artie, wake up buddy!" and he smiled when the older man's eyes fluttered. He felt his fingers move. 'Come on Artie!"

Slowly, very slowly, Artie opened his eyes, glazed over and unfocused because of the laudanum Powel had used to sedate him. "J'm?"

Smiling, Jim said, "Hello Artie… How do you feel?"

Looking at Jim through a gray veil, Artemus breathed, "'M Still… alive?"

Powel nodded. "Yes, Mr. Gordon, you're still alive. I'm Major Powel, the CMO at Fort Randolph. A trapper called O'Malley found you close to Waterford Bridge and he brought you here. I took care of your wound and you should make a full recovery."

Blinking Artie slowly registered the information. "Ah… thank you." He continued to blink dazedly. "J'm… you shouldn't be here… sprained ankle. Where are… your crutches?"

Jim nodded. "I let them in the Wanderer. It's not easy to ride a horse with crutches…" He chuckled and Artie gave a weak smile. "I couldn't leave you here alone Artie so I came here as soon as I could. I tried not to walk too much. What happened?"

Still blinking slowly, Artie mumbled, "Kalli… Kallikrates… stabbed me… worked for… O'Donnell… Canadian… crime… organization."

Powel was positively astounded. "What?"

He wasn't the only one to be very, very, surprised. Jim asked, "You sure? Because I've known Kal for years, he's a good man… I mean, he was a good man."

Still blinking, but slower, Artie could see the edges of his vision going blurry and black. "Y's, 'm sure. He tried… to kill me," he confirmed.

Powel frowned and said in an affirmative tone, "That's impossible. I've known Kal for years…" He sighed, sadly. "I mean, I knew him for years… He's big and large, looks like a brute, but he wouldn't hurt a fly – unless it's an enemy fly. He's a good giant. Everyone loves him here. He's very popular. He's like a big brother to the guys under his command. I can't believe it. That's not possible."

Standing, fully trusting Artie, Jim said, "It's a shock for me too, because Kal was my friend since the war. He saved my life at the battle of Vicksburg. But he was a member of that criminal Canadian organization selling rifles to the Sioux. He knew what Artemus's mission was – I told him…" He looked down at Artie, feeling terribly guilty. "I shouldn't have. If Artie had died, it would have been my fault. But I couldn't imagine what would happen… Kal tried to kill Artemus, and I believe him."

Powel was still doubtful. "Other stories are possible… We only have Mr. Gordon version of the facts. They could have had a big fight about something that turned deadly…"

His face tense, Jim said, "I have every confidence in my partner, Doctor. He never lies… 'Except when he plays a role', he added in his mind. "Artemus and I have President Grant's complete trust. We wouldn't have it if we were liars, Doctor. If Artemus says Kallikrates was working for O'Donnell and that he tried to kill him, it's the truth." Leaning toward Artie, who was fighting to stay awake, Jim asked, "Did you kill Captain Kallikrates?"

Looking up at Jim Artemus nodded. "Yes… I did. It was… him or me."

Powel nodded. "I have to tell this to Colonel Sanderson. I will see you later, gentlemen," and he left the small infirmary.

Pouring water into a glass, Jim, feeling ashamed said, "I'm really sorry, Artie. What happened to you is my fault. I shouldn't have told Kal what your assignment was. But… I thought I could trust him."

Blinking slowly, Artie said, "I understand… I'm not cross with you, Jim. He saved your life… He was a good war-buddy…You had reason to trust him."

Jim nodded and swallowed, now feeling betrayed. "You're right. It won't happen again, ever. I will trust no one else except the President, the Colonel and you ... and Dr. Henderson, and Harry and your mother..." He glanced through the window and noticed soldiers grouped in front of the building, talking animatedly –from time to time casting murderous glances toward the infirmary.

He stood. – and putting weight on his injured foot, he let out a hiss in pain. But it didn't stop him. Gritting his teeth, he moved toward the window and watched Powel talk with two sergeants. They were furious, their eyes were wild and they had their fists tightened. 'Powel is telling those two men what happened and of course, they don't believe it. They will defend the Kal, they love-loved', he thought.

He looked at Artie who was blinking at him. "I think we should leave the Fort before those men move to revenge their friend. I've already heard about this kind of situation in the past, during the war and an unfortunate accident can quickly happen ... like a stray bullet leaving a weapon that is being cleaned…" He headed back toward the bed and brought the glass of water to Artie's lips. "You and I are going to leave as soon as possible Artie."

Feeling fuzzy, Artie took a small sip and let out, "Can't… move Jim. Tired… " Then he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

Tbc.


	4. Act Two Part One

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 **Part one**

 _Much later, at night_

The long, loud howl of a wolf woke Artemus Gordon with a start.

He blinked and looked around him both confused and disoriented. "Wha… Jim?" He heard the horses neighing with anxiety. "Jim?"

He was surprised to find himself huddled in a nest of blankets, lying inside a covered wagon, lit by a kerosene lamp hanging above him.

Suddenly James West pushed the rear flaps to the side and entered the vehicle, holding his Winchester 73 in his gloved hand. "Hey Artie, you're awake! How do you feel tonight buddy?"

Frowning, puzzled, Artemus said, "Err… I'm tired and puzzled… The last time I woke up I was lying in a bed in the infirmary of Fort Randolph… and now I'm in a covered wagon… What happened?"

Sitting cross-legged beside his partner, Jim responded, "We had to leave before angry troops at the fort could harm you, Artie. They were angry because you killed Kal – whom they loved. He was very popular. We left before 'an unfortunate accident' happened. I already assisted to that kind of situation in the past, during the war. I put you in a wagon and we left Fort Randolph at sunset. We have stopped for the night."

Feeling hot, Artie touched his forehead with his free hand. The other one, along with his arm was caught in a sling. He was still wearing his white pajamas, he noticed. His damp skin was burning. "I have a fever…" he shivered and wrapped the blankets around him. He winced.

Suddenly there was a concert of wolves' howls. The dangerous predators were close and the horses, afraid, neighed again.

Feeling worried for his horse, he asked, "Lockpick's okay?"

Looking outside, Jim said, "Yes he is, and Blackjack too. I have lit a dozen fires all around the wagon, fortunately it's not snowing."

Blinking slowly, immensely tired, Artie asked, "Y' okay? Ankle… bad."

Smiling reassuringly, Jim patted Artie's arm with brotherly affection. "I'm fine. Stay here buddy, and sleep, you need to rest. I'm going to keep the wolves away." On that, he left the covered wagon and closed the flaps behind him to keep the cold outside.

WWW

 _Later_

Half an hour later, a series of gunshots resounded, waking Artemus with a start again. He propped himself on his good arm and looked around him.

He grimaced. Any tiny movement started jolts of pain in his injured shoulder. He glanced at the rear part of the covered wagon. "Jim!"

Suddenly the flaps closing the rear part of the wagon opened and an Indian jumped inside. He was holding a deadly war club. He was wearing a long buffalo-fur coat, had his long hair loose and had a buffalo fur cap on his head, and his face was totally painted black.

A Sioux! He thought. "You're not Jim…" He said, moving back. A shiver coursed down his spine. "And you obviously want to kill me…"

He rapidly looked around him hoping to find a weapon to defend himself – and spotted his gun belt sitting on the floor at arm's reach.

Gritting his teeth, anticipating the coming searing pain, Artemus plunged to grab his Colt just as the warrior leaped on him.

He let out a yelp of pain.

For one minute or so, the two men fought, the indian tearing Artie's pajamas top open in the process, trying to break his skull with his weapon, and Artie doing his best to aim at the Sioux while keeping the Indian away from him with his right arm. The pain was atrocious, and he was on the edge of blacking out, when he managed to pull the trigger.

He fired at the same time he was hit on his head with the war club.

They both collapsed to the wooden floor of the covered wagon, the indian was dead and Artie knocked out and bleeding.

WWW

Outside, Jim was fighting hand to hand with four warriors, focused on it, forgetting the huge pain pulsating in his sprained ankle entirely.

Five were already lying on the snow-covered floor – dead – blood pooling around them. But the last four were strong and resistant.

Four gunshots suddenly banged, echoing in the night and all the four Indians collapsed to the icy ground.

More than surprised, Jim looked around him – expecting to see a cavalry platoon coming out of the night, but instead he saw a group of Indians, riding painted horses.

He frowned, puzzled. Indians killing other Indians? He knew that Sioux tribes where often at war with other Indians like the Crows and the Pawnees, but he wasn't a specialist on Indians – like Artie was… He mused. He paled in alarm. "Artie!" He whirled around, wincing as his injured ankle hurt horribly. He stood a few seconds on his good leg, His injured foot was throbbing like hell. He was ready to rush inside the covered wagon to see if Artie was okay – and strongly hoped he was, but stopped dead in his track when he saw two Indians leave the vehicle, holding Artie upright between them.

His partner was unconscious. "Artie!"

He rushed toward his partner, grimacing with each step, and froze when he saw a rivulet of blood running down his forehead.

He groaned with anger and slammed his fists into the warriors' faces, throwing them to the snow-covered ground; knocked out. He caught his best friend in his arms as Artie's knees buckled.

Deeply anxious Jim lowered Artemus to the hard ground, maneuvering him onto his uninjured side and took his pulse. Finding it pulsating beneath his fingertips, he sighed in relief and turned around to face the Indians moving toward him. He noticed a dozen horses pulling travois heavily loaded with pieces of raw bloody meat and bloody buffalo furs. 'They're on their way back from hunting,' he thought.

Mounting a black and white horse, a powerful warrior wearing a buffalo-fur cap with two horns asked, "Why did the soldiers of the fort want to kill you?"

Blinking in disbelief, Jim said, "What are you talking about?... These men here aren't soldiers…" But the indian seemed sure of it, he realized.

He suddenly remembered his previous mission. Soldiers disguised as indians had almost started a war as a good start for General Baldwin's run for the Presidency.

He bent over a dead 'indian' and… removed a wig with long braided raven hair, revealing underneath short blond hair. He straightened. "You're right, I didn't know that… Why do they want to kill us?… Well, It's a long story." He returned to Artie's side and felt a big bump on his scalp sticky with cooling blood. "My partner here killed an officer from Fort Randolph in legitimate defense and his friends wanted to make him pay for that, with his life, killing me in the process too. They disguised themselves as Indians – as Sioux – in case someone saw them attack us, because there are trappers in the vicinity ... they had surely planned to let indications after our death of an attack by Sioux warriors…, like an arrow, a knife…"

Frowning, the Sioux warrior slid off his horse. "But you fought them well – while injured. One man against nine men. You are very brave."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, and you arrived just in time to kill the rest of them, thank you." Intrigued he furrowed his brow. "How did you know they were weren't really Sioux?"

Moving toward the two white men, the big, broad warrior responded, "One of my men who was watching the fort, saw them go out at nightfall – dressed like Lakotas - and he came to warn me. We followed them here." He put one knee in the snow, beside Jim, intrigued by Artie's tattoo, black Comanche tattoo, the pajamas top only half covering it. He pulled the garment up, revealing it. "My first intention was to let you go, but not anymore." Then he traced the round scars that the Sacred Eagle had left on Artemus's back. "I have heard about this man – the Crows, our enemies, tell many stories about him and we have heard them. He's the man who brought their missing children back, they praise his courage, bravery and strength... Wakan Tanka, the Great Incomprehensibility chose him well." He gently pushed Artemus onto his back and added. "So this is Strong Bear, the white man who is an adopted-Comanche and an adopted Crow… the white man with the black Comanche eagle tattoo." He stood and added, "Black Bear, the Chief of the Crow band of Otter Creek, has captured my brothers, Long Tail and Little Fox when they were stealing horses from the Crow winter camp. He keeps them prisoner there. I will trade the two of you in against them." He nodded and the two warriors that Jim had punched hoisted Artemus on his feet, holding him up. "Put him on his horse… We leave."

Jim frowned. "If the US Army learns about this… You're going to have big problems. I'm a federal agent and my friend too."

The powerful warrior nodded. "No Lakota, no Crow are going to tell anything. Strong Bear is friend with indians and he won't tell anything too, and you're his friend. You won't tell anything."

Pointing at Lockpick tied up at the side of the wagon; Jim said, "It's the gelding there," and the Indians folded him across his saddle.

Using Artie's rope, they quickly secured him on it.

Placing his hand on his chest, the warrior said, "I am Red Feather, war chief of the Lakota band of the Three Rivers Fork. You are my prisoners." Then he took off his buffalo-fur coat and placed it on top of 'Strong Bear', protecting him from the cold.

WWW

 _Much later,_

 _Under a tepee_

 _Winter camp, outside of the reservation_

A moan.

Immediately Jim turned his head – only his head – because the rest of his body (waist, hands and ankles) was immobilized, tied with solid leather thongs to a pole embedded in the ground.

His eyes fluttering open, Artemus moaned again and glanced around him. He winced, assaulted by the mother of all headaches and a searing pain in his injured shoulder. "Jim…"

Frowning in worry, Jim asked, "You okay Artie?"

Closing his eyes, Artemus grimaced. "No. My head is gonna explode and my shoulder hurt like hell… What happened? I'm still alive. I thought I would wake up dead…"

Jim smiled. "Wake up dead?... that's funny." He paused and added, "The Indians who attacked us were soldiers from the fort, disguised as Sioux. They wanted to kill you – and me too, not wanting to leave a witness alive - to their revenge for Kal's death. In case anyone saw them, no one would have recognized them and the Sioux would have been accused. They had probably planned to leave clues, like an arrow, a knife ... No one would ever have suspected them, but real Indians arrived and killed the fake Indians and their war chief captured us. He wants to trade us in against his two brothers who are prisoners of the Crow. We're in his tepee. His name is Red Feather."

Re-opening his eyes, Artie sighed. "Great, the sooner, the better. Crows are my friends, especially Black Bear's band and they obviously have a better sense of hospitality…"

Jim nodded. "You're right. But we are only here because you are Strong Bear, the adoptive Comanche and Crow, the man that the Great Spirit protects – I get the feeling that anyone else they took prisoner would be treated a lot worse."

Frowning, intrigued, Artie asked, "How does he know that?"

Glancing around him, Jim responded, "Your friends the Crows tells stories about the brave and valliant Strong Bear… and the Lakota heard them."

Suddenly the flaps closing the opening of the tepee opened and an old man with long white hair entered, followed by two warriors.

He pointed at Artie and Jim. "Release them!" and the two warriors immediately pulled out their knives to cut the leather thongs restraining the two federal agents.

Once freed, Jim helped Artie to stand and wrapped an arm around his best friend's middle to keep him upright on shaky legs.

Smiling, Artemus said, "Thank you, Jim. I'm alright."

Nodding, Jim parted from Artie.

The old Sioux bowed his head with deep respect, then looking at Artemus, he said, ""Hau! My name is Spotted Horse, I am the leader of the Lakota band of the Three Rivers Fork. You are not prisoners anymore, but honored guests. I know who you are, Strong Bear. My elder son, Red Feather, out of respect for who you are, shouldn't have treated you like that – and your friend too. I asked him to come here to apologize and I apologize in the behalf of my band. When he told me who you were and that he was keeping you prisoner here, under his tepee, with your friend, I immediately came here to release you."

Jim nodded. "Honored guests… but forced to stay here. We're still going to be exchanged for your – two other sons, right?"

Spotted Horse nodded. "Yes, Long Tail and Little Fox are prisoners of the Crows. I want them back. I have sent Red Feather to Black Bear's settlement to talk about the an exchange. It will take place at the limit of the Crow hunting grounds, on Šahíyela Wakpá, the Belle Fourche River."

Frowning, Artie said, "I recognize you… you were one of the Sioux chiefs gathered at Temple Canyon when Oconee made his speech…"

Spotted Horse nodded. "Yes, I was there. How did you know…?"

Rubbing his throbbing temples alternatively with one hand, , Artie explained "I know that, because I was disguised as the Sioux Chief Black Bear."

The old warrior was very surprised. "It was you… But Oconee fired at you… I was there, I saw that. " He was then very impressed. "And you didn't die. Wakan Tanka really protects you…"

The older agent chuckled softly. "He didn't kill me because I was wearing a bulletproof vest under my clothes, and it stopped the bullets… " Noticing that the old Lakota didn't know what a bullet-proof vest was, he added, "I had a special protection under my clothes… I just had a few bruises."

Spotted horse nodded. "Then, the other chiefs of the Sioux and I, we owe you an immense debt of gratitude, Strong Bear. Without your intervention, Oconee, with his viper tongue, would have probably convinced us to start a war with the 'Wasichus', the white men in my language… and break the peace treaty. Wakan Tanka, the Great Incomprehensibility sent you to help us…" He bowed his head with deep respect again and the two warriors imitated their leader.

Suddenly Artie's knees buckled and he sank to the floor with a sharp intake of breath, before Jim could catch him, to lie on his left side. "Artie! okay, stay down buddy…"

He gently rolled Artie from his side to his back, pulled off his jacket, rolled it in a ball and placed it under his partner's head.

He saw blood on Artemus's reddening bandage and pajama top. He looked up at Spotted Horse and said, "He's injured, he was stabbed in his shoulder and the stitches didn't hold. He needs help."

Spotted Horse nodded. "Red Moon the medicine man has left for the white peak mountain to gather some herbs, and he won't be back for days."

Lifting a hand, Artie grimaced and said, "Don't worry… It's nothing. You can do it Jim… just need a needle and a thread…that's all. Simple. And water to clean the wound."

Spotted Horse nodded then said something in his language to the warrior standing at his right and the other man left the tepee. "He will bring you a needle, a thread and water." Moving toward the opening of the tepee, he added, "And clothes."

On that, he left.

Jim pushed Artemus's top off of his shoulders making Artie suck in a sharp breath and removed the blood soaked bandage to have access to the stab wound. He noticed that a few threads had burst and cringed when he saw how red and angry the stitched wound looked.

Blood was oozing onto the pale skin.

The warrior was back a couple of minutes later with a thread, a needle and a water bag made out of a buffalo stomach. He gave them to Jim. He was accompanied by another man holding a bundle of clothes, he put them on top of a pile of blankets.

Pouring water onto Artie's wound, Jim looked up at the Sioux and said, "Thank you," and the two Lakota warriors left – to halt in front of the opening of the tepee a couple of seconds later.

He looked down at Artemus then, staring blearily back at him. He gently tapped his cheek. "Stay with me Artie," He ran a hand through his partner's hair, in a gesture of comfort. He hated seeing him in pain. I'll be gentle as I can." Once most of the blood had been cleaned away by the water, Jim started threading the needle.

Feeling the needle pierce his highly sensitive skin, Artie hissed and flinched, his eyes falling closed, and he bit his lower lip. "Ow!"

Jim froze. "I'm sorry. Hold still Artie."

Complying, Artemus opened his eyes, lifting his head, watching Jim use the needle trailing a long thread behind it, with a steady hand, sewing his wound shut. "Not bad," he said, clenching his teeth, before grunting in pain, as his partner was drawing the sliced skin together before starting a new line, continuing to patch him up. "Next time I have something to sew ... and no time to do it, I'll hire you…"

Smiling, Jim finished up the next stitch and stopped. "I'd rather sew fabric than your skin… And this is not the first time I've done that, and it won't be the last, I'm afraid. I'm almost done. One more," he said, as he weaved the needle through his best friend's skin and flesh. Finally, he tied the thread and used his teeth to cut the excess thread. "There, I'm done, buddy, all stitched up! Your stab wound is now neatly closed, Artie," he said, watching his partner take in a deep breath and close his eyes, again. "Sleep well buddy, you need rest."

The older man breathed out a long sigh, letting his head fall back against Jim's jacket rolled into a ball under his head. He could feel himself becoming heavier, his consciousness starting to slip away. "Thank you J'm;" he mumbled as his body went lax with sleep.

Tbc.


	5. Act Two Part Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 **Part two**

 _The next day, in the afternoon_

 _Belle Fourche River_

The two groups of warriors, Lakotas and Crows were separated by a frozen river, a river that was the frontier between the two tribes lands.

They were armed and ready to fight. They were enemies.

Mounted on Lockpick, Artemus Gordon spotted a middle-aged woman amongst the Crows. He recognized White Crow, the chief of the warriors.

She had cut her hair, he noticed with surprise. He knew that Crow women usually kept their hair very long as it was a great source of pride.

He blushed remembering their kisses, their caresses and the pleasure of holding White Crow in his arms… He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at Jim. "Yes?"

Frowning in worry, James West asked, "Are you okay Artie? You look a bit flushed…"

The older man nodded. "I'm fine." White Crow was accompanied by her youngest son, he noticed, Black Wolf who was his best Crow friend.

Red Feather brought his horse close to Artie's and said, "Stand ready. When my brothers start to head toward the river, you'll do the same."

At that, two warriors moved their horses toward the frozen river and Jim and Artie followed suit.

Everything was going fine, when, in the middle of the river, everyone froze, hearing a loud rumbling sound – and a series of gunshots.

The ground started to shake and the ice cracked with the intense vibrations.

Everyone looked on the right side where a herd of a hundred buffalos appeared in the valley. A large group of white men was following them, shooting at them, killing dozens of them each time they fired.

But when they saw the indians they immediately changed targets and fired… at them – and both Lakota and Crows defended themselves, using their rifles.

Caught in the middle of arrows and bullets flying everywhere, Jim and Artie managed to cross the river just in time before the buffalos scattered among the Lakotas and the Crows, rushing over some, throwing them down, trampling them, killing them. They joined White Crow and Black Wolf and a dozen warriors, standing at the top of a large rock. The Crows were still using bows and arrows and rifles to protect themselves from the white hunters shooting at them.

The two Lakota brothers managed to escape the herd of fleeing buffalos too, and safe and sound, headed toward a group of trees.

Red Feather raised his hand and let out a loud cry, signaling his men to regroup. Then, when everyone was gathered around him, he hit the sides of his horse to join his brothers there. The others followed.

Little by little the gunshots stopped – as the hunters, injured, fled at top speed or fell off their horses, crashing to the ground, dead.

White Crow lifted her hand and her warriors lowered their bows and arrows and rifles.

She looked Artemus over from head to toe, surveying his body to see if he was hurt and saw blood staining his buffalo hide, on his right shoulder. "You're hurt."

Smiling, Artie nodded. "I know, it's nothing, White Crow… You cut your hair…"

She nodded. "I cut off my hair as a means of grieving…"

Black Wolf moved his horse close to Lockpick and placed a friendly hand on Artemus's shoulder. "It's good to see you again, my friend." He glanced at his mother who was still looking at Artie – or to be more precise, was devouring him with her eyes. He let out a soft chuckle and whispered, "My mother still wants you, Strong Bear," and he added, "Red Fox, her second husband is dead. Red Fox was very sick before the first snows and Half-Moon couldn't save him. He died three months ago. She's a widow, again."

Noticing that White Crow was still staring at him, her eyes lit with intense desire, Artie nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss… " he said, blushing.

Moving Blackjack to the other side of Lockpick Jim gave his best friend a smirk and said, "White Crow is very happy to see you again…"

Black Wolf nodded and grinned. "Yes she is."

WWW

 _On the way to the Crow settlement_

 _In a cave, in a natural alcove_

 _At sunset_

Sitting beside Artemus on a dead tree trunk close to the fire, Black Wolf offered a piece of buffalo meat to his best friend.

Eyes riveted on the flames, lost in his thoughts, Artemus didn't react. But he did when he felt a hand land on his arm.

He blinked and looked at the young Crow warrior, seated at his side. "Black Wolf… Sorry, I was thinking about how my assigment spiraled out to hell - again…" Taking the piece of dried buffalo meat, he bit into it and devoured it in a few seconds. "Thanks, I was hungry."

Seeing his mother heading their way, Black Wolf said, "I will see you later." He left, leaving his place to White Crow.

White Crow reached out and touched his stubbled jaw. "You shaved your beard. I loved it."

Smiling, Artie raised his hand to his cheek, feeling the stubble there, then he brushed White Crow's hair in return, softly – a carress. "You cut your hair… Black Wolf told me why. Accept my condolences."

White Crow nodded. "Red Fox was a good man and a good husband… but he's gone, life has to go on." She said.

Artemus nodded. "You're right."

She took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. "I never forgot you, Strong Bear." She moved her hand to his temple, mussing his thick, dark curls. She loved tangling her fingers in them, playing with them – and they were gone. "You cut your hair too… Did you lose a loved one as well?"

Smiling again, Artemus shook his head. "No. Jim cut my hair a little too short… I will never let him near me with a pair of scissors again…" He chuckled.

He rubbed his nose up against her cheek causing White Crow to giggle. "Your nose is cold," she said, and she kissed it. "Let me warm it up…"

They laughed.

Standing at the entrance of the natural alcove, Black Wolf intercepted Jim, placing a hand on his chest before he could go inside. "No!"

Surprised, Jim asked, "What is it? I want to know if Artie's okay…"

Moving his hand to the other man's shoulder, Black Wolf smiled and said. "Don't worry, Strong Bear is fine. My mother is with him. She's going to take care of him. Let's join the others."

Jim nodded. "Okay."

Frowning White Crow touched Artemus's buckskin shirt, at the level of his right shoulder, noticing spots of blood there. "You're bleeding. You're hurt!"

Glancing at his shoulder, noticing the blood there too, Artie said, "I was stabbed in the shoulder… I suppose the stitches burst again."

Placing a hand on Artie's chest, White Crow commanded, "Lay down," and watched him comply, lowering himself onto a blanket. "Good. You need to rest now." She sat cross-legged beside him and added, "Half-Moon will take care of your wound once we reach the settlement."

Pressing White Crow's hand in his, Artemus asked, "Lay with me?" and he smiled when she curled up against him. He kissed her forehead. "I missed you," he whispered and smiled again when White Crow, lying on her side, buried her face against his neck, placing soft kisses there. "A lot." He brought his hand up, his thumb traced along the smooth skin of her cheek. "You're so beautiful…" rolling onto his good side, he leaned in close, brushing his lips against White Crow's. "I'm going to kiss you…"

But White Crow was faster. She caught Artie's mouth in a bruising kiss and put her hands on Strong Bear's butt possessively.

WWW

 _The next evening, at the Crow settlement, west of the Powder River Basin, into the western portions of the Yellowstone Valley,_

 _Montana Territory_

Black Bear, the chief of the Crow band of Otter Creek bowed his head with respect when Artemus entered his tepee.

He was followed by White Crow.

The old Chief smiled. "Kaheé! (hello) Welcome back Strong Bear. I am very happy to see you again. All the people here are happy to see you again and welcome you back. It is a great honor to have you here again, among us, the man who has been marked by the dúuptakoische (eagle), sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people."

He hugged Artie, in a warm welcoming gesture and gestured to his side, to the empty place between Black Wolf and he.

Artie sat down on a buffalo-hide mattress, between the two Indians and said, "Ahó," (thank you). It's good to be back. The last time I was here, it was winter."

Black Bear nodded. "Yes it was. My grand-son Black Wolf told me everything that has happened – except where your inseparable friend is …"

Crossing his legs, Artie said, "Jim left for Fort Randolph to tell Colonel Sanderson what happened with the fake Sioux and during the exchange of 'prisoners" with them. He was accompanied by ten warriors. They will come back before nighttime."

Half-Moon, the Akbaalia (healer) entered the tepee in his turn, said 'Kaheé! Strong Bear. White Crow told me that you were injured, bleeding, Strong Bear." He knelt in front of Artemus – and touched his injured shoulder. Blood was reddening the buckskin shirt.

Grimacing, Artie groaned in pain.

The Crow medicine man showed Artie his fingers, red with blood. "I'm going to heal you, Strong Bear. It will be fast. But you must not move your arm for several days." He opened his beaded shoulder bag and pulled out a series of small buffalo hide pouches covered with colored beads. "Remove your clothes. I need to examine the wound."

Slowly, gingerly, Artie complied, wincing the whole time, and once he was bare chested, Half-Moon traced the stitched wound, the skin around it blue and purple, dried blood crusting on the edges. It was inflamed and painful-looking. "It is infected," he said.

Artie nodded. "The Lakota medicine man wasn't here so Jim cleaned the wound with water and then stitched it up."

The medicine-man pulled out a knife from his belt and ordered, "Lie down," and watched Artie move onto his back, gritting his teeth tensing his body in preparation for the oncoming pain.

Half-moon used the sharp point of his knife to cut the stitches one by one and Artie hissed. Then he pressed his hand on the wound, with the fleshy part under his thumb, making Artemus howl in pain and writhe on the blanket-covered ground.

Gritting his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead, Artie rasped, "You have a terrible bedside manner, you know that?"

Pus mixed with thick black blood flowed. Half-Moon, applied more pressure on the wound and Artie threw his head back, jaws tightened, grabbing Black Wolf's arm in a tight grip.

Half-Moon continued to press on the wound, moving his fingers on the edges of it, until red, liquid, blood poured onto Artie's white skin.

Getting paler by the second, Artemus suddenly felt sick and his head swam. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

Using a water bag made from a buffalo stomach, Half-Moon cleaned the wound. Then he opened one of his bags and pulled out a great dollop of a greasy, greenish and smelly antiseptic ointment and applied it to the wound, rubbing it inside. "With this, there's no need to sew the wound closed. That ointment will do it and you won't have any scar left," he said.

His hands trembling, taking in shaky breaths, Artie nodded. It wasn't the first time the Crow medicine man had used his famous fast-healing ointment on him. "I know."

Still grabbing Black Wolf's arm in a vice grip, Artemus did his best to keep himself from crying out loud in pain biting his lips to hold his tongue, keeping his tears at bay.

He was _Strong_ Bear and had to be strong.

He met White Crow's eyes and read respect for his resilience in them and he couldn't help but grunt when Half-Moon's preparation started to burn like fire.

He started to see black spots invade his graying and narrowing vision and he didn't fight against the coming blackness and was relieved to pass out.

Half-Moon nodded. "Let's bring him to my tepee."

WWW

 _Much later_

It was dawn when Jim entered Half-Moon's tepee wincing with each step. Walking and riding with a sprained ankle was torture.

The Medicine man was absent but Artemus was here, lying on his back, on a buffalo fur mattress, close to the fire at the rear of the tepee (it was his reserved place, as he was a special guest) opposite the door. He was sleeping soundly and lightly snoring.

He noticed that Artie, half-naked, had a green-brownish poultice on his injured shoulder and that his arm was tightly immobilized with leather thongs strapped to his chest.

He removed his hat and coat covered with snowflakes and dropped them on a pile of blankets. Then he sat beside his partner.

He rubbed his tired eyes and yawned. He moved onto his back, closed his eyes and –exhausted – was out like a light a few seconds later.

But he and Artie were awoken a few minutes later by a series of gunshots and explosions. Chaos had erupted around them.

Tbc.


	6. Act Three Part One

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 **Part one**

The two agents rushed outside as new explosions rocked the ground around them, dirt flying everywhere, smoke billowing from burning tepees.

Jim had his Colt in his hand and Artemus was holding a knife.

Panicked women and children were running in all directions, trying to escape from white people mounted on horses, who were firing at them.

The warriors had regrouped and were hitting back, using bows and arrows and rifles too.

It was chaos!

"Hunters! I bet they came to avenge their comrades that the Crows and the Lakota killed a few hours ago," Jim proposed.

Using his knife, Artie cut the leather thongs keeping his injured shoulder immobile. "We have to help the Crow, Jim!" He said before heading back into the tepee. He came back a few seconds later, now holding a bow and a quiver full of arrows. "Half-Moon loves hunting, he always has a bow and a quiver of arrows in his tepee. He won't mind if I borrow them. Go help the warriors, Jim! I'm going to protect the women and the children." He pressed his best friend's shoulder. "Take care, Jim." He said, and then he ran toward the rocky edge of the Yellowstone River (E-chee-dick-karsh-ah-shay - 'Elk River' for the Crows) where the Crow women and children had fled, avoiding bullets and flying sticks of dynamite.

Walking the best he could with a sprained ankle toward the warriors, Jim used his Colt to help them – killing six hunters on the way. Once standing beside Black Wolf he reloaded.

Looking at Jim, between two detonations, the young warrior asked, "Where is Strong Bear?"

His Colt reloaded, Jim responded, "He's with the women and the children, protecting them. He's very good with a bow and arrows."

Frowning, worried, Black Wolf said, "Yes, but he's alone. All the warriors are here. He needs help." Then he left, heading too, toward the bank of the Yellowstone River.

He spotted Strong Bear half hidden behind a large rock, firing arrows at a group of five men shielded behind a tepee.

He was protecting a large group of women and children of all ages who were assembled a little further away, in a cluster of trees, hiding the best they could.

The young Crow warrior was going to join Strong Bear when he saw two batons of dynamite tied together flying in the air.

Lifting his eyes, Artie saw them too, heading his way but it was too late to move away, too late to be afraid. He just closed his eyes and stopped breathing, ready to die.

His last thought was, 'Goodbye Jim!'

There was a huge explosion, accompanied with a deafening roar and a big fire.

Black Wolf cried out in horror as he saw his best friend hit by the force of the blast, fly in the air in the middle of a cloud of chunks of rocks, snow, flames, sand and billowing smoke – before hitting the surface of the river a few seconds later, hard, in a big splash of water and crushed ice.

He heard the whites chuckle and pointed a first arrow toward a hunter, tears welling up in his eyes. "You're going to pay for that!" he growled, in his language.

Strong bear would be avenged.

He was joined shortly after by Jim, limping, who immediately asked, "Where's Artemus?" and saw Black Wolf's face crumple. He blanched fearing the worst. "Where is he?"

Black Wolf hit a last man with an arrow – square in his chest – and pointed at the river. "There was a big explosion… He was thrown into the river. He's dead."

Panic creeping up his throat, Jim breathed, "No… Artie can't be dead." Then he sprinted toward the Yellowstone River partially covered with bits of ice. With frozen water leveling his hips, he looked around him frantically, searching for his partner. "Artie! Artie! Artemuuuuuus!" he called. Close to a couple of trees, he saw children grouped around something, a little further on... or someone, and knew in his heart. It was ... "Artie!" He returned to the bank and limped as fast as he could toward the children, who moved away to let him pass. One of them said, "We found him in the river and brought him here. "I think he's dead…"

Unable to kneel because of his sprained ankle, he let himself drop to the ground to sit on his butt on the sandy ground, beside his best friend and gasped as he surveyed Artemus's body, covered in bleeding cuts and burns, everywhere. "Oh God…"

He reached out a trembling hand and pressed two fingers against Artemus's throat – and sighed in relief when he felt a pulse. It was shallow, barely perceptible, but it was there. Artie was still alive. "He's not dead," he said, a wave of relief flooding through him. But relief melted like snow in the sun a few seconds later. There was so much blood, far too much blood and Artie probably had broken bones, internal bleeding… He just couldn't survive in this state…, Jim thought feeling his heart constrict in his chest with dread.

He gently tapped the unconscious man's ghastly face. "Artie, wake up buddy…" But Artemus remained unconscious.

He wanted to talk to Artemus one last time.

He had so many things to tell him before it was too late…

He lifted his eyes toward White Crow as he felt a hand press his shoulder. " He just said 'He's not dead'," to the female warrior.

The female warrior nodded. "I'm not surprised. Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people, protects him."

Black Wolf approached, immense guilt written on his face. "I should have helped him, but I thought he was dead… fortunately the children were there. They saved his life. Without them, he would have drowned. Pease forgive me, Jim." He looked at his mother. "I'm sorry." He dropped his bow at his feet and took Artie's limp body in his arms. "I hope he will survive…" Then he headed back toward the village.

Still dreading his best friend's death, Jim stood, helped by White Crow, groaning in pain and, still limping, he followed her.

But half of the village had vanished in the deadly attack, Jim noticed. A lot of tepees had been obliterated by dynamite or burnt, and dead Crow warriors were lying everywhere, among still smoking craters left by the explosions. There was blood everywhere – tainting the snow with red. There were a lot of white hunters there too, dead, lying in pools of their own blood.

Frowning in anger, White Crow said, "They are dead, all of them. I won't ever have the pleasure of scalping one alive…"

Ignoring Jim's reproachful look, she said something harsh in her language and followed her son, holding Strong Bear's bloodied body tightly against him, as he entered under Half-Moon tepee, which was still intact.

Pushing back tears, Jim followed her.

WWW

 _Later_

Half-Moon's tepee was already packed with injured warriors when Black Wolf gently laid Artemus on a blanket beside the fire.

The medicine man knelt beside his new patient.

Blood was dripping from Artemus, welling sluggishly from a dozen wounds. "What happened to him? He asked, surprised. "It's like he was hit by dozens of arrowheads and he has lots of minor burns..." then, before receiving a response to his question, he used his knife to cut open the fringed buckskin pants, from bottom to top, full length, exposing Artie's naked body in order to access the white man's injuries. Deep lacerations were running all along Artie's legs.

Kneeling beside his partner too, Jim explained, "There was an explosion when he was fighting against hunters, in the middle of some rocks, along the river…"

Half-Moon immediately started poking and prodding Artie's body to detect any broken bone, but didn't find any.

Black Wolf added, "He protected the women and the children, alone, while the warriors, me – and Jim – were fighting the whites."

White Crow pulled out a pointy, sharp piece of rock embedded in Artie's raw flesh and commented, "He's very brave."

Black Bear and Red Eagle entered the tepee in their turn. The leader of the Crow was unharmed but his grand-son was hurt.

Red Eagle had a deep gash on his right arm and left leg.

He looked at Jim and said, "A cavalry squad has just arrived from the fort. Black Bear and I told the captain what happened, but he wants to talk to you."

Standing, Jim followed Red Eagle outside and they both headed toward the officer who was ordering his men to put the dead bodies of the hunters in a couple of marked 7th Cavalry buckboards.

Noticing Jim approaching him, along with the Crow warrior, he said, "Mr. West? I'm Captain Gallagher, from Fort Randolph. I would have liked to have been here earlier with my men I was told of the attack in the middle of the night by a Lakota warrior. He warned me that his settlement had been attacked in retaliation for the hunters killed during the buffalo hunt by the Lakota and the Crows. He was sure that the hunters would also attack the Crow settlement s - and he was right."

Surprised, Red Eagle asked, "Why did he warn you? Lakota and Crow are enemies. Did he tell you why, Captain?"

Gallagher nodded and responded, "Yes, he told me that dying in battle was an honorable death, and that dying in a surprise attack by whites was not." He paused and added, "Colonel Sanderson will deploy more patrols at the border of the reservations to prevent hunters from coming to the Lakota and Crow lands in order to prevent further massacres… on each side."

Red Eagle said, "They killed 20 braves, and five old men! What happened could have started a war! But fortunately for white people, Spotted Horse and Black Bear are men of peace." He paused and added, in a cold, threatening voice. "But if you can't stop white people entering our lands again, just once, to kill our people, then we will stop them. and this time, it will mean war."

Gallagher nodded. "I understand." He watched a group of warriors drop the hunters' saddles to the snow covered ground.

But they kept the horses – and the rifles.

Red Eagle said, "They don't need them anymore."

Hearing a strangled cry of pain, then "Jiiiiiim!" Jim recognized Artie's voice and said, "My partner was seriously injured during the attack. I have to go." Then he left, running for Half-Moon's tepee.

Black Wolf accompanied him.

WWW

 _Under Half-Moon's tepee_

Kneeling beside Artie again, still lying on his back on a blanket, Jim watched the Medicine Man gently rub his greasy, greenish and smelly antiseptic ointment on his partner's wounds and burns making his skin red here and there. "I'm here, Artie, I'm here," he said. He took his partner's hand in his and pressed it in a comforting gesture. He smiled and said, "Everything's going to be alright, buddy."

His face ashen, Artie said, "What? Speak louder, my ears are ringing… "

Ringing because of the explosion, Jim thought, and he repeated what he had just said, louder. "Everything's going to be alright, buddy."

Artie shook his head and took a deep breath as he willed himself not to panic. But he reached out frantically and grabbed onto his best friend's shirt. "No, no… I can't see." He raised a hand to his face but couldn't see his fingers. "I can't see anything but darkness. I'm blind, Jim," he let out, his voice ragged and strained. He winced and tears welled up when his pounding headache intensified, becoming almost unbearable and making him nauseous.

Blanching, aghast, Jim felt like a lightning bolt had struck him. Blinking slowly, he finally rasped, "What?" he repeated, louder, "What?"

Artie touched the back of his head and winced. Looking at his fingers covered with blood, he said, "I think a bit of rock struck me there during the explosion and left me blind."

Now frowning in deep worry, Jim asked, "Is it permanent?"

Gently rolling Artemus on his good side, Half-Moon parted the sticky,blood-soaked hair with his fingers and probed the wound with one finger. "I can see a graze, but the skull seems intact." And he started to rinse the wound with water.

Swallowing hard, Artemus nodded. "Yes, I think it's permanent. This often happened during the war with cannon balls or mortar shrapnel… Two of my friends became blind when a piece of metal hit the back of their head… They consulted doctors, but they couldn't do anything to help them get their sight back."

Optimistic in his soul, Jim shook his head. "Doctor Henderson is the best doctor in the whole country. He will find a solution. He will fix you. I'm sure."

Looking devastated, Artie said, his voice shaky, "I'm not a machine Jim. It's not something easily repairable or reversible. I probably have a grave problem in my brain, affecting my vision. Henderson is the best, yes, but we're talking about a very tricky operation here… don't know if he's capable of doing that…"

Still optimistic, Jim said, "Then we'll find specialists… " He paused. "We have to leave, go back to Cheyenne, and then, once in the Wanderer, we'll head for Washington."

Half-Moon shook his head. "In his present state, he can't ride and can't walk either." And he rubbed the antiseptic ointment on the head injury.

Black Wolf nodded. "I'm going to prepare a travois for the journey." Having said that, the young man left the tepee in a rush.

Seeing tears running down Artie's cheeks, Jim said, "I'm sure it's only temporary, Artie. Dr. Henderson is going to take care of it, I'm sure."

Brushing away his tears with the back of his hand, Artemus said, his voice lifeless, "He won't able to help me, Jim. No one can. I'm blind. I'm useless. I'm finished."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "I forbid you to say that… You will recover your sight, Artie. It's just a matter of time, I'm sure."

Not convinced at all, but to please Jim, Artie huffed. "We'll see… or not."

Closing his eyes, Artie said, "Jim, bring Black Wolf back here. I need to explain to him How to build a sled, it will be more comfortable for me and especially much faster to transport me. Especially since there is snow all the way to Cheyenne."

WWW

 _Later, under Half-Moon's tepee_

They were lying side by side, face to face on a nest of blankets.

Pressing a soft kiss on Artemus's closed eyelids, White Crow breathed out, "You will recover your sight, Strong Bear."

He shook his head and pain shot through his skull. He winced. "No."

She placed a finger to his lips. "Yes, you will." She kissed his forehead. "You will. You have to believe it. You have to fight resignation, defeat." She kissed his aching temple and added, "You were hurt many times in the past you told me; you were hurt recently, and you will be hurt many more times in the future… " She paused when he cringed. She kissed his lips soothingly and continued, "… Because you are a chosen-warrior, Strong Bear, Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people." will always test your strength and courage, to see if you are worthy of its protection, and if you are, Akbaatatdia will continue to protect you. Akbaatatdia will give you your sight back, if you want it back, are determined to have it back. It is up to you."

He raised a hand, brushing White Crow's cheek softly, cupping her face, her skin was soft and warm against his calloused palm. "I was hurt long before Akbaatatdia marked me with the dúuptakoische, making of me a chosen-warrior."

Slowly tracing Artemus's lower lip with a fingertip, White Crow said, "Akbaatatdia sent you tests to get through before choosing you."

Opening his eyes – but seeing nothing but blackness, Artie said, "Then I know now why I have all these troubles…"

White Crow leaned close again and placed a series of light kisses on Artie's lips, teasing him. "When will you come back?"

Sighing, Artie blindly tangled his hand in the Crow woman's hair. "I don't know White Crow… Life is uncertain for me now… I don't know."

WWW

 _Laramie's Mountains_

 _In the evening, in the middle of a clearing…_

 _Full moon_

Hearing the wolves howling, Jim placed his Winchester on his lap and glanced at the horses attached to a tree piled with snow, neighing nervously. "They're close," he said.

Lying under layers of warm blankets, in the sled placed against a rock, protecting him from the icy wind, Artie reached out blindly to take up his own rifle lying at his side.

He grabbed it, his hand trembling slightly. "Don't let them get any closer, Jim. They almost killed me when I was alone in that cave." He blinked as he suddenly realized something. "Now that I think about it…. I know what happened. Kallikrates saw the wolves outside, and he sent me outside to fetch my match box, thinking that the beasts would attack and kill me, but they didn't, that's why he was disappointed when I came back into the cave… Then he left me alone, taking my rifle so I couldn't defend myself with it… and he didn't stop the wolves when they entered the cave… thinking they would kill me. He would have told his superior officer that it was an unfortunate accident ... He kept the other wolves away from the horses that he needed… but when he found out that I was still alive, he was very surprised… But he wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible, before reaching the fort, that's why he decided to act himself…"

Standing, Jim nodded. "I hope you will tell me the whole story about Kal and those wolves when we are back in the Wanderer." In a reassuring tone, he added, "Don't worry, I won't let them get closer. But you should put your rifle back where it was Artie… you can't see anything."

Lowering his rifle, Artie sighed. "You're right, I could hit you…" Placing his Winchester at his side again, he continued, "I won't use it anymore… nor any gun. A blind man can't shoot. I can't work anymore. I am a useless cripple." He swallowed, hard. Broken.

Looking down at his dejected partner, Jim said, "Stop thinking that. I told you, it's only temporary… I am sure of it!"

Frowning, Artie groaned in anger and his breathing began to pick up. "No it's not! I'm blind! I'm blind, I'm not stupid! Don't you understand? I can't see a damn thing! I'm blind dammit! BLIND! It's permanent!" he cried out, clutching at the folds of the blankets, so hard that his knuckles whitened. "And Akbaatatdia won't help me… No one can. No one."

Raising a calming hand, Jim said, "Calm down, Artie, please."

Instantly regretting that he had let himself be carried away by anger, Artemus said, "I'm sorry. My nerves seem to be on edge..." He paused, taking a series of deep breaths, calming his panic-like state and he added. "I know a great deal about medicine, as you know. I was hit by a rock, in the back of my head, where the occipital lobe is located. That part of the brain contains most of the anatomical region of the visual cortex that plays an important role in processing visual information. If the occipital lobe is damaged, the result can be vision loss. Blindness. It's not going to be a temporary blindness, but a permanent one… My life as it was, is over. What am I going to do now, Jim? Aside from buying a cane and a pair of black glasses?" Shoulders hunched, he dropped his head feeling the world was crumbling around him.

Placing a comforting hand on Artie's shoulder, Jim replied. "You're gonna fight, buddy. Dr. Henderson is the best surgeon I know – we know, and I'm sure he's going to help you. He will fix you, Artemus Gordon! He's a miracle worker."

Shoulders hunched, Artemus let out, "Great! Because I'm going to need a miracle…" Then, he pulled the edge of the blanket up to cover his face. Hiding his tears, like a scared child.

But he didn't stay hidden long beneath the blanket, as he jumped, hearing gunshots. Jim was firing at the approaching wolves.

He grabbed the knife resting in a sheath at his hip and stood ready to defend his life.

He knew by experience that wolves attacked on all sides simultaneously to overwhelm their prey, so they are paralysed with fear, totally panicked, unable to defend themselves.

If he was blind, he wasn't deaf, but because of the buzzing and whistling in his ears and Jim's loud gunshots echoing in the valley - he couldn't hear the wolves very, very, light steps crunching in the icy snow.

But his sixth sense was sounding alarm bells. He knew they were approaching him. Following pure instinct he raised his knife – just when a wolf attacked. He felt the beast crash on him, heard the wolf yelp in pain and felt it disengage.

But another wolf replaced its companion and leapt on Artemus who tried to hit blindly, but the wolf closed his long, sharp teeth around his wrist protected by his thick buffalo fur coat.

Suddenly he felt another wolf (the injured one?) jump on his legs and catch his other arm in its powerful jaws, growling.

The two wolves started to tear his sleeves apart.

His two arms prisoners of the beasts jaws, he cried out, "Jim! Help me!" He screamed in pain after that, as he felt pointy teeth seep into his flesh.

But Jim was busy firing with his gun (the Winchester had no more bullets) at the gray wolves coming in waves, trying to submerge him. "Hold on, Artie!"

He was protecting the horses too when he could.

Lockpick and Blackjack were fighting too – rearing and kicking - their hooves delivering hard and even deadly blows to the attacking wolves.

Swirling around, Jim saw Artie being attacked by two wolves, each of them biting one of his arms, and he pulled the trigger, but his Colt clicked.

It was empty.

He muttered a curse and hastened to remove bullets from his belt, to place them inside the barrel, but it was already too late. One big gray wolf leapt on him, jumping for his throat, its fangs bared dripping with slobber, its eyes wild with hunger.

Jim landed on the hard ground with a thud, pinned to the iced snow by the growling animal perched on top of him, and he protected himself with a reflex move: he lifted his left arm toward the wolf, trying to push the beast off of him with it.

He needed just a few seconds… he thought, trying to keep his calm.

The wolf bit Jim's offered arm, sinking its teeth into the thick, solid material of the special agent's winter coat… while the federal man activated the ejecting-support of his concealed sleeve-gun.

Jim pulled the trigger of the Remington Double Derringer and lodged two bullets in the wolf's head, which dropped dead to the side.

The other wolves (the surviving ones) froze seeing that their Alpha male was dead and they regrouped to form a growling, all-fangs-showing, deadly mass.

Standing, Jim looked at Artie now rid of the two wolves which had joined the pack. The other man was moaning in pain, thus still alive.

He sighed in deep relief. "Hold on, Artie!" he repeated. He took a first step back, slowly, then a second, preparing himself for the worst.

The wolves moved forward, baring long, white, razor-sharp-teeth, still growling.

Step after step, Jim joined his best friend who was lying immobile on the sled, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy and fast. Blood was dripping down from the sleeves of his torn buffalo fur coat.

He felt his stomach drop at the sight. "Artie!... Don't die."

But Artemus didn't react… and the wolves with bared fangs, snarling, had made a circle around them, closing it little by little.

Not resigned to his tragic fate, Jim took a last step back… and grabbed Artie's rifle, but it was a futile gesture, he realized.

Ten wolves were approaching, and he couldn't kill all of them before he ended with his throat wide open, half of it missing…

But he wouldn't die without fighting, he thought.

He glanced at his best friend. Artemus was regaining consciousness, his breath was now shallow and labored and blood was pooling around his arms, exciting the wolves even more.

He was dying.

Crying, Jim knelt beside Artie and pressed one bloodied hand into his. "It's the end of the road for us Artie… I mean here. See you on the other side."

He pointed his Winchester at the first wolf and fired.

He was pulling the trigger a second time when, suddenly, a big, male grizzly bear suddenly appeared, attracted by the scent of blood.

Immediately the wolves moved toward the bear – wanting to defend their prey (namely Jim and Artie) wanting to keep them for themselves.

But the bear attacked the wolves – and the wolves attacked the bear.

Immediately seizing this miraculous opportunity, Jim hurried to hoist Artie on his shoulder and ran toward the horses while the wolves and the bear were busy fighting each other.

He threw Artie across his saddle, jumped on Blackjack and holding Lockpick's reins he kicked his horse's flanks setting the stallion into a gallop. Lockpick followed gladly.

But the wolves dashed in pursuit of their prey which was running away… and they caught up with them near a bridge spanning a large torrent.

Jim opened his saddle horn, pulled out the mini bomb he kept there in case of problems, and threw it on to the wooden slats covered with a thick layer of snow.

Part of the bridge exploded, sending the wolves fly in the air – and cutting their access to the other bank of the large, tempestuous river.

He looked down at Artemus bent over his saddle, still unconscious. "Okay Artie, let's go back to Black Bear's settlement."

Tbc.


	7. Act Three Part Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 **Part two**

 _In the morning_

Half-Moon looked at Artemus's arms, covered with punctures wounds and said, "He lost a lot of blood… but he's not going to die."

Closing his eyes in deep relief for a split second, Jim said, "What can I do?"

The medicine man took the water bag and a cloth and handed them to Jim. "Clean him, while I'm preparing a disinfecting potion."

Moving closer to his best friend, lying stark naked on a buffalo fur, Jim poured a little water on the fair, goosebump-sprinkled skin and used the cloth to gently rinse the blood still seeping from a few wounds, dabbing them here and there where the blood had dried.

Dejà vu, he thought.

He had done that before, he mused, in Petersburg, in 1865 and he remembered everything clearly as if it had happened only yesterday.

He had almost killed Artemus Gordon that day, wanting to protect General Grant, taking his future best friend and partner for a Confederate soldier.

But to his defense, Artie was disguised as an enemy soldier at the time.

 _The past,_

 _Petersburg, Virginia, 1865_

The day was over or almost – it was sunset, and General Grant was heading back to his headquarters encampment after a long day on one of the many battlefields around Petersburg.

Riding his horse tirelessly for hours, he had encouraged his officers and men to fight with courage, promising them that the end of the war was near. He galvanized them with his presence on the front, and while doing it, he had been grazed on his shoulder by a rebel's bullet.

Ulysses S. Grant glanced at his young aide de camp riding on his right side, and hid a smile. Captain James T. West was scanning the area anxiously. "Calm down Captain, the place is safe and I'm safe," he said. "There're no Confederates in the area. We control it entirely." He looked over his shoulder at Dr. Henderson, his physician and CMO of the Army of the Potomac, riding behind him, closely followed by a whole company of soldiers also scanning the area. Then he looked again at Jim West and added; "That escort wasn't necessary… I repeat: the area is perfectly safe…"

He stopped mid-sentence as a confederate soldier suddenly appeared on the w ay in front of the riders, coming out from a group of trees. He was holding a gun.

Captain West's first reaction was to protect the General riding beside him. He instantly grabbed his revolver and aimed. He fired a split second later at the soldier in gray, square in his chest.

Grant suddenly said, "No! Don't shoot!" but it was already too late. The enemy soldier was hit and he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

The General dismounted in a flash and hurried to the wounded man's side as he was writhing in pain on the muddy ground. "It's going to be alright, son, hold on," he said as he pressed his hands against the other man's chest, trying to stem the blood flow seeping between his fingers. "Hold on Artemus."

Captain Artemus Gordon breathed, "No, no, no… I'm such an idiot… I'm sorry General." Then he closed his eyes and passed out.

Grant glared at his young aide de camp then he called, "Stephen! Stephen come here, I need your help! Artemus is shot!"

Colonel Henderson dismounted in his turn and ran toward the two other men.

He knelt beside Artemus Gordon and checked the Union spy's pulse at his throat. "He's still alive, Sir." He quickly got rid of Artemus's uniform vest and blood-soaked shirt, and ripped open the top of his long underwear. "It's bad, General," he said grimly. He examined the wound and frowned in deep concern. "The bullet narrowly missed his heart and it is lodged in his lung. His chances of survival are slim."

In that briefest second General Grant went incredibly white, any remaining color draining from him. Then he regained control of himself and looked down at Artemus. He noticed with dread that Artie was breathing shallowly through slightly parted lips, and blood was escaping from his mouth with each breath. "Do everything you can to save him, Stephen. I don't want to lose him. Save Artemus", he pleaded. He removed his rain-soaked and mud-spattered government-issue sack coat, and rolling it in a ball slid it under Gordon's head. Then he gestured toward West and ordered, "Come here, Captain!"

Still very surprised to see that the General took interest in a rebel soldier and even knew him by his name and wanted to save him, Jim complied, kneeling next to the General. "Yes Sir."

Ulysses S. Grant placed his hand on the unconscious man's shoulder in an affectionate gesture. "This man here that you _shot_ is my _personal spy_ working undercover, under my direct orders and giving his information only to me - Hence the gray uniform he's wearing. Captain let me present to you Captain Artemus Gordon, _spy_ _extraordinaire_ and a man I consider to be like my own son."

Feeling very bad, Jim gulped. "I'm really sorry, Sir. My first reaction was to protect you. I didn't know that that gray-clad soldier was Captain Gordon, a Union officer."

He looked down at the supine form of the man and remembered officers talking about a mysterious man coming and going at the General's tent, at night, anytime – a spy - but that was before the siege of Petersburg. Since then he had disappeared, and many believed he had been killed. He shook his head and then continued his reflection: they were wrong; Gordon had infiltrated himself into the Confederate Forces since the beginning of the siege of Petersburg, spying on them and transmitting information to the General - via carrier pigeons probably. It was the easiest and safest way – and those pigeons were actually… under Grant's tent, in a cage. They were trained to navigate from Gordon to Grant and vice versa. He smiled. 'I always thought they were feathered spies – as they kept coming and leaving the General's tent, and I was right.'

Captain West studied Captain Gordon's face, trying to recognize his features beneath his shaggy beard and grime. He did: Captain Gordon was Grant's liaison officer. He had only seen his face once or twice since the General had taken him to be at his side as his aide de camp, and briefly, off and on. 'Of course, he's always on secret missions'.

As if he had read his aide de camp's thoughts, General Grant said, "Artemus usually wears _another face_ than his – a mask – but a very realistic one, and a different one, each time he comes to see me to give the information he picked up – and he has done so since the beginning of the siege of Petersburg - to avoid being recognized by potential rebel spies or other agents -who may have infiltrated our ranks. He only _wears his own face_ in his own words, when his mission is over and he's waiting for another. It usually doesn't take long, a few hours, the time I need to analyze the information and give him another mission. During that time, he's Captain Gordon again, my liaison officer, almost always on the road, carrying my secret messages to other generals on other battlefields. It's Artemus's idea for his cover, so nobody is surprised at his long absences and his brief returns."

Jim nodded in admiration. "It's a very good idea, Sir."

Grant nodded. "Of course it is. Artemus is a professional. He never neglects any detail. His life depends on his precise preparations."

Captain Gordon stirred, opened his eyes and immediately cried out in terrible pain, his face twisted in agony, thrashing. He looked up at Grant, grabbed the General's arm and realizing the gravity of his wound and that he was certainly going to die, he croaked his voice barely audible, "General, Sir… It's been… an honor… and a pleasure…to serve with you…" Then he coughed blood.

Ulysses S. Grant's shook his head and ran his hand tenderly through Artemus's long wavy hair. "Don't die on me. Hold on! I can't win the war without you, son."

Tears rolled down Artemus's hairy cheeks. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's my fault… I… I shouldn't have appeared like that… before you, like a Jack in the box. You took me… for an enemy."

Grant suppressed a curse. "It's my fault too, I should have recognized you earlier… but when I did, it was too late. But you don't look like the man I send to Petersburg close on nine months ago. You've lost a lot of weight and you have long hair and a bushy beard – that are yours!"

Gordon's face shadowed. "Yes, mine, and real not false. It was hell on Earth, Sir… no, it was worse. I survived but barely. Taking care of my appearance was not one of my priorities." He grabbed Grant's hand. "I had to know… I had to know if you were still alive, Sir. A sniper fired at you."

General Grant smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine. That bullet just grazed me. It's nothing." He frowned, curious. "How do you know that someone tried to kill me?"

Captain Gordon smiled weakly. "Because I shot the man who tried to kill you, Sir… It was a sniper, hidden in the ruins of a house… But he had time to fire once before he fell… I was so worried about you…"

The General nodded. "And because of you, he missed his target and I'm still alive. You saved my life today Artemus. Thank you."

Captain Artemus Gordon smiled broadly. "I'm glad you're here Sir, because ... because I think this is it... for me. It was a pleasure, General, Sir." He closed his eyes and unconsciousness claimed him.

General Grant shook his head. "You're not going to die." He looked up at Stephen Henderson. "Doctor, do something, please."

Dr. Henderson opened his big black bag and pulled out a syringe and a glass bottle. He filled the syringe with a powerful sedative and said, "I can't do anything here, General, I need to have Captain Gordon transported to the camp." Then he administrated the drug to his patient.

Feeling guilty, Jim raised his hand. "I'd like to help you, Doctor. It's my fault if Captain Gordon is seriously wounded. I want to help you with him, please."

The physician nodded. "Alright."

WWW

 _Later, under the largest tent of the portable hospital,_

 _Operating room_

Once Artemus Gordon was laid on the operating table, Dr. Henderson took his surgical instruments and put them in a basin filled with water. Then he opened a glass bottle containing a yellow liquid and poured a little of it in the large bowl.

Intrigued, Jim, who had never seen any surgeon do that before asked, "What's that potion?"

Henderson smiled. He turned towards James West and said, "It's not a potion, but a disinfectant. Before operating on my patient, I need to prepare my surgical instruments – I have to disinfect them, using a formula that Captain Gordon created."

Jim was very surprised. "He did?"

Henderson nodded. "Yes, he's a great chemist, you know. He's also the one who created the sedative drug I use commonly now – instead of laudanum - with no side effects." He gave Jim scissors and said, "Get rid of his clothes." He pointed at a bucket filled with water, a piece of soap and clean cloths sat on a table. "Then you'll clean him thoroughly, around the wound and on the wound, orderlies will do the rest of his body later. It will avoid any risk of infection and disease. And do it quickly, Captain, I need to remove that bullet as soon as possible. He's getting weaker with every minute."

"Yes, Sir." James West hurried to cut off the uniform that was falling apart, got rid of the hole-filled shoes and then cut the filthy long-johns in pieces and dropped them on the floor, wrinkling his nose and grimacing in disgust. The stench almost made him gag. His eyes watering, he said, "It looks like he never changed clothes in months! Or took any baths either."

Dr. Henderson nodded while disinfecting his assorted surgical instruments. "He didn't! Like all the confederates in Petersburg, Captain. They lack everything: food – that's why Captain Gordon is considerably thinner – and potable water – and they won't waste it to take baths or wash their clothes, and they lack clothes too. Everything is rationed in Petersburg."

Captain West poured some of the cold water onto Artemus's chest, and started making circles with the soap on his chest, letting the soap bubble on the bloodied skin. "Do you think he was in the trenches, Colonel? Firing at Union soldiers."

Henderson joined the younger man. "He did what he had to do while undercover, Captain, to keep his cover intact, and if he fired at Union soldiers, be sure that he missed each time."

Jim gently scrubbed Artemus's chest, all around the wound and the wound itself. Then he soaked the cloth in the bucket and ran it over the protruding ribs and the wound, still seeping blood. Then he poured the rest of the water over the skin to rinse away the bubbles and blood. "Done," he said.

The surgeon began to wipe his instruments on a clean cloth, and said, "You can leave now, Captain. Thank you. I have my own assistants." Two male orderlies approached, one was holding a tray covered with clean cloth, bandages, needles and thread. "The operation is going to be tricky, but it won't be the first time with Captain Gordon. He's a regular patient of mine."

Captain West nodded. "Yes, Sir.

Dr. Henderson added, "Tell the General it could take a few hours, then I will have Gordon transported into his tent."…

 _The present…_

Hearing Artie moan in pain he blinked twice, coming back to the present and watched Half-Moon pour disinfectant on Artie's wounds.

He too knew how to prepare one.

His eyes flying open, but not seeing anything, Artie winced, thrashed and breathed, "Cheéte… Cheéte…" while tears rolled on his cheeks.

Half-Moon translated for Jim, "Wolf."

Running his thumb in soothing circles in Artie's hair, Jim said, "They're gone. You're safe Artie."

Blinking slowly, disorientated for a few seconds Artemus breathed, "J'm?… S'c-cold." He was now shivering and his teeth are chattering, even lying on the buffalo fur close to the blazing fire.

Half-Moon nodded. "You're cold because you lost a lot of blood and you're very weak," he said. "But you're safe, and Jim is safe too."

He lifted Artie's head, gently, and brought a carved-wood bowl to the other man's lips. "Drink, it will help you to relax, Strong Bear. You need to rest."

Eyes closed, Artemus recognized the Crow healer's voice, grimacing at the bitter taste, but complied. "Thanks," he said in a whisper. He smiled weakly, feeling immensely pleased and relieved, "We're safe… I was sure I was… going to die. Wha-hap'ned?"

Still massaging Artie's scalp to relax his best friend, Jim explained, "A grizzly bear saved us. When the wolves were busy fighting it, I fled with you settled across my saddle. I used a bomb to destroy a bridge to keep the beasts away… and I headed back here."

Half-Moon rubbed a greenish ointment on Artie's wounds and he yelped. "Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people, sent that daxpitchée (bear) to protect you – and send you here, back to me. It wants me to take care of you."

Feeling something resting on his chest, Artemus touched it blindly – wincing as his arm hurt - and frowned recognizing claws, long, sharp and pointy claws. "What's this?"

Half-Moon replied, "It's a bear claws necklace. It will bring you the power and strength of the bear and its healing powers."

Jim smiled. "It's appropriate… for a man called Strong Bear."

Exhausted, Artie drifted to sleep.

WWW

 _The next evening_

Opening his eyes, but still seeing nothing but black, to his great regret, Artemus realized two things simultaneously: first, he was wrapped like a mummy in (judging by the weight) several warm blankets, and two, there was someone holding him, snuggled against him… stroking his cheek.

It could only be one person… White Crow.

He surfaced his left hand and brushed against the soft skin of a neck, the roundness of a shoulder, the curves of a … "White Crow, h'llo."

She smiled. "Hello," and she kissed his bearded jawline.

He finally noticed that he was naked beneath those several blankets… and that the Crow woman pressed against his side was naked too.

But no blankets were covering her.

He realized something else then… His body felt heavy, like it weighted tons, and his limbs were numb. He didn't have the strength to lift a finger.

It felt so good…

He was completely relaxed, happy, lightheaded. Pain was gone. "Half-Moon gave me something… some kind of good drug," He breathed.

Smiling White Crow ran a fingertip across Artie's throat, circling his Adam's apple and then settling it on his strong chin. "He made you drink one of his potions with powerful calming herbs… then he wrapped you in blankets because you were cold and shivering." She paused moved a rebel curl off his forehead. "I want you, I wanted you since the first time I saw you, Strong Bear" she whispered against his ear, biting the lobe playfully. "Do you want me too?"

He smiled. "Yes, I want you. I'm yours White Crow… but I'm not sure… you know, those herbs have a very powerful effect…"

White Crow moved into a sitting position and started to unwrap Artie. "Half-Moon's potion should wear off soon… in the meantime, I'm going to be gentle," she said. She leaned over, kissed Artie and laced their fingers together before nibbling his throat marking the skin here and there, claiming him. "Or I'll try," she said. "But I'm not promising anything."

Feeling like he was in heaven, Artemus chuckled.

Tbc.


	8. Act Four Part One

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

 **Part one**

 _The next morning_

It was late when Artemus opened his eyes and winced. His headache was so painful, that he thought for a split second that his head was going to explode.

He gasped in surprise. "What?"

He propped himself on his elbows and winced. His whole body hurt. The effect of Half-Moon's herbal potion had worn off, he thought.

He blinked several time to be sure. Yes! He could see faint light… He waved his hand in front of his face. He could see shadows too. "Oh God!... Jim could be right. Maybe it's a temporary blindness after all," he said, before grinning, hopefully.

He moved into a sitting position, grimacing in pain and finally realized that he was alone. White Crow was gone and he regretted it. Last night had been… passionate and wild.

He smiled. "I should call White Crow, Wild Cat instead… " he said to himself and heard a soft chuckle. "Jim? You here buddy?"

Entering the tepee Jim nodded. "Yes, I'm here. How are you feeling Artie?" He sat cross-legged beside his best friend. "Wild cat?" he spotted several scratches on Artie's chest and shoulders and a few hickeys and bite marks on his neck. "I can see why…"

Focused on his sight maybe coming back, Artie didn't pay attention to his best friend's last remark and grimaced as a sudden stabbing pain lanced through his eyes. "I can see lights, Jim! And shadows when I move my hands in front of my eyes! Nothing clearly though. But this is great news!"

Grinning happily Jim said, "That's very good news! I told you! It's a temporary blindness. You're going to have your sight back Artie, it's just a matter of time." He patted his partner's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "It's going to be alright Artie. You just need to rest… if White Crow lets you do that, of course. The two of you didn't sleep much last night…"

Utterly embarrassed this time Artie blushed violently up to his ears and asked, "You… heard us?"

Shaking his head, Jim replied, "No, I didn't. I was so exhausted after what happened that I slept like a stone all night long. But Black Wolf and Red Eagle did hear you. They were not sleeping when you… well, became vocal and the tepees are close to each other… I think half of the Crow heard you, last night."

Mortified, Artie pulled a blanket over his face to hide his shame and said, "Dear God. I didn't notice, otherwise I would have been more discreet. But Half-Moon had given me a good drug…I felt so good… that-that I lost control of myself…"

Observing his childish reaction, Jim chuckled and said, "You weren't alone in expressing your 'happiness' last night, buddy. White Crow participated too." Patting Artie's leg reassuringly, Jim said, "Don't worry Artie. People here don't bother about things like that. It's something natural – it's part of life. That's what Black Wolf told me after I told him what your reaction would be."

Uncovering his face, Artie said, "Thanks, Jim."

Half-Moon, the Crow healer entered the tepee in his turn and smiled broadly. "I can see that you feel better, Strong Bear," he said.

Artie nodded. "Thanks to you, Half-Moon. Thank you."

The old Crow medicine man knelt beside Artemus and observed his injured arms. The wolves's bites had begun to heal nicely. "Good, good. I need to put some ointment on them again. The scars should vanish here and everywhere on your body in a few days," he added. He touched the bear claws necklace. "Bear is considered a medicine being with impressive magical powers," he said. "Its magic helps you to heal."

Brushing the bear claws Artie nodded. "I can see lights, Half-Moon and shadows… when something or someone moves in front of me."

Half-Moon nodded. "Bear magic is powerful."

Suddenly Artie's stomach let out a low growl. "I'm hungry," he said.

Jim smiled. "Then you feel better, definitively."

WWW

 _Later_

Sitting on a buffalo fur mattress, wrapped in a blanket, Artie was eating roasted buffalo meat with wild turnips in a buffalo hide pouch with his greasy fingers, when a warrior entered the tepee. He was tall, large with long hair and wearing two hair pipes made from beads on both sides of his greased, shiny hair. He was wearing a buckskin shirt decorated with colored beads, trimmed leggings with a bead-covered belt, a long breechcloth and moccasins.

He had two owl feathers tucked in his hair.

But Artemus didn't see that. "Who's here?" he asked.

Spotted Owl pointed at the opening of the tepee. "Black Bear wants to see you, Strong Bear."

Placing his 'plate' at his side, on the mattress Artie said, "Perhaps could you bring me some clothes? I'm naked under this blanket."

Spotted owl shook his head. "Black Bear doesn't wait."

Artie stood and winced. His legs hurt and he swayed. The warrior grabbed the white man's arm and helped him to walk outside.

He was still 99 %blind at, but he could see shadows moving and could hear a lot of people talking. "Can someone tell me what's happening?"

Spotted Owl said, "We are heading toward Black Bear's tepee. All the warriors are gathered there, to attend a ceremony."

Frowning, puzzled, Artie asked, "A ceremony? What kind of ceremony."

Spotted Owl stopped and Artemus imitated him.

The leader of the Crow was wearing his eagle feathers headdress. White Crow in full-warrior attire too was standing beside her father.

Looking proud, Jim was standing between Black Wolf and Red Eagle.

Losing patience, Artie asked, "What is it?"

Black Bear took a step forward. "I Black Bear, with the agreement of all, have decided to adopt you as a member of this band, Strong Bear, and to make of you a warrior. You fought bravely against the whites, like a Crow warrior would have done it. You protected the women and the children, you saved their lives. You have owned this honor by your actions." He nodded. "But before starting the sacred ceremony, you have to look like a Crow warrior."

Moved to tears, Artie tried to keep his emotions at bay. "Thank you, I'm very honored, Black Bear," he said before bowing his head.

Black Wolf leaned over to Jim and told him, in a low voice, "I'm going to translate for you what my mother is going to say, Jim."

Black Bear nodded and White Crow, holding a bag made with buffalo hide, moved in front of Artemus. She pulled out a pouch, opened it and poured its contents on top of Artie's mussed hair. It was paint, blue paint. She used two fingers to part his black curls, blue-ing his scalp. "Blue is symbolic of the sky," she said in her language, and I place it on your head as the dúuptakoische, sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything, Maker of All Things Above and people, flies high in the blue sky, protecting you." Then she pulled out another pouch containing paint too, black this time. She used her thumbs to paint Artie's face in black, insisting on his bearded cheeks and neck. "Crow men shave…"

He smiled. "I thought you loved my beard…"

White Crow continued, "You fought the enemy, wounded the enemy, slayed the enemy, you have the right and honor to have a blackened face." Then she used red paint on his hands, saying, "Red symbolizes the blood of the enemy…"

Smiling Artemus whispered, "I'm going to look like a rainbow…"

Frowning, upset, White Crow placed a finger on Artie's lips. "Silence!" and smiled too when Artemus kissed her finger.

She pulled out several strands of horse hairs and beaded leather thongs, she used to extend Artemus's short hair. "Crow warriors have long hair, and are proud of it," she said.

Smiling, she grabbed the blanket he used to hide his nudity and threw it at his feet. He gasped in surprise and shock and immediately hid his private parts behind shaking hands.

Everyone laughed at that reaction as Crow were very comfortable with their bodies and nudity… and Artie blushed violently.

But no one could see it behind his black painted face, he thought.

He didn't see White Crow's eyes shine with intense desire.

She finally pulled out a couple of beaded necklaces from the bag and put them around Artie's neck, running light fingertips over Artie's shoulders.

Then she looked at Red Eagle and the warrior joined them.

He was holding a bundle of clothes. He helped Artie to dress and soon, he was wearing the same clothes and moccasins as the other male members of the band.

Feeling much, much better with clothes covering his nakedness, Artemus sighed in relief and bowed his head again. "Thank you," he said.

Black Wolf approached in his turn. He was holding a bear pelt that he placed on Artie's shoulders and a spear, he put in his hand.

Black Bear nodded. "Now you we can start the sacred ceremony."

Tbc.


	9. Act Four Part Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

By Andamogirl

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

 **Part two**

 _Much later,_

 _In the middle of the night_

 _Under White Crow's tepee_

Lying on a mattress of buffalo fur, both naked under a couple of thick, warm, blankets, pressed against each other, Artemus and White Crow were kissing lazily.

Sighing, Artie suddenly rested his forehead against White Crow's. "I have…"

The Crow woman pressed a finger against Artie's lips and said, "No, stay. I don't want you to leave, Strong Bear. Stay with me."

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face, rubbing at his aching eyes." I can't stay. I'm now an adoptive Crow, yes, a Crow warrior, yes, but my place is not here, but at my partner's side. I have to leave. I know… I'm not going to be very useful to him for a while, but my sight will come back, with time. No operation needed… I can see more light than before… the shapes are still very blurred, but my sight is improving. That's great news." He pressed a kiss to White Crow's nose. "I have to go back to Washington, and you know that…"

She nibbled at his jawline. "Yes, I know." Then she pressed her teeth gently into his neck. "As I want to keep you at my side a little more, I will accompany you to the limits of the Crow territory."

He kissed White Crow's lips. "With pleasure… Jim and I will leave at first light tomorrow." He yawned and closed his eyes. "Now we should sleep. The day tomorrow will be long and rough…"

White Crow smiled. "No," she said, running a hand up and down Artemus's stomach. "I have another idea…" then she pulled the blankets over them both.

WWW

 _The next morning_

 _Belle Fourche River_

Looking like a true Crow warrior, his face still painted in black, Artemus dismounted his horse at the same time White Crow slid off her white mare.

They hugged and Jim moved away toward a group of bushes, giving them privacy. But he didn't come too far, though.

He knew that Artemus was a magnet for trouble. He looked around him – all his senses on alert. Artie and he had been attacked by soldiers, hunters, Sioux warriors, wolves, plus a bear… What would be next? He mused, a bit tense. He heard the thunder rolling and looked up at the dark gray sky. "What about a thunder storm? Artie could be hit by a thunderbolt…"

He glanced at his best friend and White Crow. Entwined, they were kissing goodbye… in a passionate way, hands going into action... He decided to move a little further away.

He halted Blackjack beside a big gray rock and dismounted in his turn. He rubbed his stallion's head and grabbed his rifle… just in case.

He couldn't help but have a look at Artie and White Crow, both sitting cross-legged on a flat rock along the river, facing each other, forehead against forehead, holding hands, fingers interlaced, whispering words… He knew they were saying goodbye to each other.

He suddenly caught sight of a movement on the other side of the river, and thought about an animal going to drink water, like an elk – but it was a man. A man holding a rifle – pointing it in Artemus and White Crow's direction.

He ran toward Artemus and White Crow still saying goodbye with soft kisses and caresses, oblivious to the world around them. "Artie! White Crow! Down!" he said.

But it was already too late.

Two shots were heard, almost simultaneously… and a split second later Artemus and White Crow parted – the bullets missing their head by an inch or so.

White Crow was the first to react as a third gunshot resounded, she jumped on Artie, pinning him to the flat rock.

She let out a strangled cry as she collapsed to the side limply. Artie grabbed her in his arms and he crumpled at her side, after a gasp of pain, as a fourth bullet hit his head.

Suddenly a group of armed gold diggers left the thick wood on the other side of the river and started to let out cries of joy.

Some of them, non-armed, held prospecting tools. "Two bloody indians love birds dead! Yipeee!" one of them said, dancing in a circle. "Yipeeee!"

But, cries of joy were short lived when Jim used his Winchester to hit the river bank all around them, scattering the men who fled in all directions.

But the gold diggers fired again – and bullets flew all around Jim.

He pulled White Crow behind the flat rock, placing her out of the range of fire, and then did the same thing with his partner.

Kneeling between Artemus and White Crow, he checked their pulses and then he opened the warrior-woman's buffalo coat.

He pulled up her beaded buckskin shirt to have access to her wound. The bullet had hit White Crow in the side, just below her ribcage, leaving a deep gash on its way, up to her navel, he noticed. It was a painful injury, but fortunately not a lethal one. He pressed as hard as he could on the wound, with one hand, blood welling up around his fingers.

He sighed in relief and moved closer to his partner. Blood was pooling under and alongside his head, he noticed in alarm.

He saw a small graze on the side of Artie's skull, not too deep, but it was bleeding a lot. He dropped his head, smiling, tears of relief forming in his eyes.

He shook Artie's shoulder. "Wake up Artie!"

Artie's eyes snapped open. He woke up with a splitting headache and he gasped loudly, pain written across his face. Then he started taking shallow, hiccupping breaths…and uttered a low painful growl.

He turned his pounding head to the side and riveted his burning eyes on White Crow's slack face. Seeing it, but as he was distressed, he didn't notice it – at all. "No…" he croaked and clenched his teeth, his vision blurred with tears streaming down his cheeks. "No…" he repeated, crying openly.

Shaking his head, Jim said, "She's not going to die, Artie. She's going to be fine. Half-Moon is going to take care of her."

His eyes glassy and unfocused, Artemus groaned as his partner pulled him up into a seated position and placed his hand on his injury, blood oozing between his fingers."I lost her, nooo…" he slurred.

Jim shook his head. "She's still alive."

He burried his face in White Crow's neck. "No, no, no..." Then he pulled White Crow into his arms, on to his lap and kissed her face.

Placing a soothing hand on Artie's knee, Jim repeated, "She's not going to die, Artie. She's going to be fine…" but the older man was still crying, grieving. He realized that due to his head injury, his best friend was dazed and confused.

He had lost grasp of the reality and was persuaded that White Crow was dead.

Hearing other gunshots, bullets ricocheting on the big, flat, rock he lay White Crow onto the sandy ground, stood, and ran toward his horse.

He didn't grab his Winchester, as Jim thought he would to fire back at the men on the other side of the Belle Fourche River – but he mounted Lockpick.

Running toward his best friend, Jim said, "No! Stay here! They're going to kill you!"

Eyes dark with vengeance, his jaw set tightly, Artie growled, "You killed White Crow! You're going to pay for that!' and before Jim could do anything, he kicked the gelding's sides.

He galloped at top speed across the shallow, frozen, river, making zigzags in order to avoid the enemy fire… holding his knife high, as if he was holding a saber, charging the enemy.

Returning behind the flat rock, Jim noticed that White Crow was conscious and propped on her elbows. He grabbed his rifle, looked at her and said, "Stay down! It's dangerous!" then he watched Artie and Lockpick reach the other bank – miraculously intact - amid a storm of bullets, and he fired – hitting his target each time, protecting Artie.

But he couldn't do anything when two men who had climbed into a tree, jumped on his best friend, tackling him to the ground.

Before he could stand, one of the gold diggers hit him on his head, with the butt of his Colt and Artie slumped to the ground, passed out.

The man chuckled, "Let's have some fun with that indian!" and he started to kick the unconscious special agent, hard, in his ribs. He stopped and glanced at Lockpick, noticing the beautiful saddle, the saddle bags, the scabbard and the Winchester. He kicked Artie's groin, frowning in anger. "You killed a white man to steal his horse!" He stopped again. "Bring me a rope!"

Crouched behind the big flat tock, Jim glanced at White Crow. "Stay here!" and he whistled.

Blackjack joined his master a few seconds later and Jim mounted his horse. Shortly after he was heading toward the opposite bank of the river.

But a bullet caught him in his shoulder in the middle of the river and he fell in the water with a big splash. A flash of pain crossed his face before his eyes rolled up and he lost consciousness.

But Jim didn't stay in the water long, as White Crow, mounting her horse, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and brought him safely back behind the flat rock.

Soaked to the bones, Jim regained consciousness a few seconds later. "Artemus… I have to save him… other side of the river…"

Looking at the opposite bank of the Belle Fourche river, White Crow detected no movement and the gunshots had stopped.

Grimacing in pain, Jim placed his hand on his injured shoulder. "They're still here and they won't leave this place. The river is probably filled with gold nuggets." He watched blood oozing between his fingers and then added, "They have Artemus. He's not dead. They will use him as a bait to attract us there… They want to kill us all, so they can continue what they were doing. They will shoot us as soon as we are out in the open. We have to find a way to save him – and then we'll leave and go back to the Crow settlement…"

Suddenly two men appeared on the opposite bank of the Belle Fourche River – framing Artemus, barely standing on his own legs.

One tall, blond, one small, dark-haired.

The bigger one was keeping Artie upright thanks to a rope wrapped around his neck – strangling him with a large smile.

The other man cried out, "I give you five minutes to join me! Or we're going to hang your friend Black Face the indian! Five minutes!"

His blood boiling with rage in his veins, Jim stood and said, "He's not an indian! He's a white man called Artemus Gordon! A special agent from Washington, like me! Release him immediately! Or you're going to have some serious problems!"

The blond brute chuckled. "Artemus? Are you kidding me? What kind of name is it? You invented that name like that story! He's a damn Indian! A damn Indian who killed a white man to steal his horse! You have 2 minutes left! Not one more! "

The two men plus Artie moved back inside the wood.

Kneeling beside Jim, White Crow said, "Strong Bear looks like a Crow Warrior… that's why they think him an 'Indian'." She winced and moved to a sitting position. "But he's not, he's a white man – but his face is still painted in black… and his hands in red. He has long hair… He wanted to ride at my side, like the Crow warrior he is… and proud to be."

Gritting his teeth against the searing pain radiating from his shoulder, Jim added, "And they think he killed a man to steal his horse, because Lockpick has Artemus's saddle on his back…"

Suddenly they heard the small, dark-haired man said, "It's time to see your friend die…" and Jim and White Crow stood, leaning against the rock.

Eyes wide opened with dread, they saw Artemus, his hands tied at his back, being, slowly lifted by the rope wrapped around his neck – across the trunk of a tree.

He was thrashing about, trying to free himself, suffocating.

Burning pieces of wood giving off a lot of smoke had been thrown all around Artie, shielding him from time to time.

Jim let out a very frustrated growl. Pointing his rifle above Artemus's head, he tried to locate the rope to cut it with a bullet, but the smoke was hiding it. It was impossible. He muttered a string of curses, his eyes flashing in anger and frustration. "They're going to kill Artemus! They guessed I intended to cut the tope that way… that's why they used the smoke…"

Closing her eyes, White Crow opened her arms wide, palms turned toward the sky and she said, "Strong Bear is protected by Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people. It won't let him die." Then she started to chant, eyes closed.

Hearing the thunder boom close, Jim looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. Suddenly, pouring rain soaked everything and everyone.

The smoke gone with the fire killed by the rain, Jim grabbed his Winchester and fired – and cut the rope, a few inches above Artie's head, with the last bullet of his rifle.

Suddenly a patrol of soldiers from fort Randolph appeared on the opposite bank, coming out from behind big rocks, and they charged.

The gold diggers dropped their guns and rifles.

Jim let out a groan as a sharp pain in his ankle made him buckle and lean against the rock.

Opening her eyes, White Crow stopped her prayer and smiled broadly. "I told you," she said as and an eagle appeared in the sky.

Tbc.


	10. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE WOLVES**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Crow settlement_

 _Two days later, at night_

 _Under White Crow's tepee_

They kissed slow and sweet, taking their time. After a moment they finally broke apart. White Crow smiled and said, "Stay."

Artemus sighed. "I can't."

White Crow caressed Artie's bearded jawline, from his ear to his chin. Then she said, "I was thinking… You tried to go back home three times. The first time it didn't work because of the Lakotas. They captured you. The second time, the wolves forced you to come back here, and the third time, you were injured by white gold diggers and had to come back here so that Half-Moon could take care of your wounds." She moved closer to her lover lying at her side, nestled under a pile of blankets. "Maybe it's a sign."

Propping himself on one elbow, Artie traced White Crow's collarbone with a fingertip. "Let me guess, it means that I have to stay here."

He winced as his throat hurt and touched the bandage that Half-Moon had placed around his neck, covering a thick layer of healing ointment. For once the smell was pleasant, he thought. He touched his head, then, and it hurt. But the gash was healing nicely and he wasn't concussed either. 'And your old noggin' is working again perfectly' he thought.

He sighed. "I'd like too, very much, but I can't…" He rasped. "Never two without three. Now I will be able to leave without fear that something will happen to me, the 'curse' is broken."

He coughed and remembered that the medicine man had told him to avoid speaking as long as he had a sore throat.

Smiling White Crow pushed Artie on his back, moved on top him, sitting astride his legs, grabbing his hips possessively. "I could keep you here, prisoner."

Lifting White Crow's buckskin shirt, Artemus brushed against White Crow's bandage, tightly wrapped around her belly. "But you won't," he let out with a hoarse voice, and then he moved his hand upward, thumbs tracing small circles on the soft skin there, coaxing up goosebumps in his wake.

Sighing in her turn, White Crow nodded. "I won't." She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against her lover's collarbone. "But I'm very tempted to…" She nibbled Artie's bearded chin while roaming her hands on his bare chest. "Will you visit me?"

He nodded. "I will. I promise."

She smiled and took off her buckskin shirt, dropping it to the buffalo-fur mattress, "There are still long hours before dawn rises," she said.

Smiling too Artie brushed a soft hip, just above the bandage. "And I don't have to go at dawn… " He circled a dark beauty spot he found here with a light fingertip. "But later…"

In response White Crow covered Artemus's collarbone with a series of soft, wet kisses, running her hands up and down his muscular arms. "Later yes, much later."

WWW

 _A week later_

 _Cheyenne railroad yard_

Marmalade's ears twitched when she heard the door opened. She raised her head and watched Jim enter her owner's sleeping compartment.

She stood, yawned, stretched, did a quick grooming and padded from Artemus's legs to his head, before meowing next to Artie's ear.

He groaned under the bedspread.

Smiling Jim saw AG poking his head out from the sling holding his injured arm, cupped it with his free hand and placed it on the pillow next to Artemus's head. The kitten immediately climbed on top of Artie's head, pawing at the Crow hair extensions.

Marmie meowed loudly determined to wake her owner. She had tried to do it, uncessufully, for three days, but he had let out a sound this time… He was finally ready to wake. "Meowwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Meowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!"

Eyes fluttering open, Artie breathed, "M'r'mie, let me sssleep…" but raised his hand to pet the black kitten. AG immediately licked the fingers, purring.

Trying not to put much weight on his still aching and healing ankle, Jim leaned forward and patting Artie's shoulder, he said, "Time to wake up buddy. I know that your indian name is Strong Bear, but it doesn't mean that you have to hibernate… and plus, it's spring! Winter is over. Bears wake up. We have received a message from Colonel Richmond. Gary O'Donnell and his men were arrested yesterday in Casper and we have a new assignment, in Las Mesas, Texas. Our orders are to capture El Gato, a Mexican bandido and his men and to put them in prison. They murdered thirty five US Army soldiers in an attack of a military post at the border with Mexico."

Marmie plopped on Artie's lap, and started licking her owner's free hand, imitating AG. Artie petted her head and she purred.

Moving into a sitting position, holding AG on his head, Artemus yawned and said, "I thought that we had a three days' leave."

Placing AG on his lap, Jim replied, "You slept through your leave Artie. I wasn't exaggerating much when I spoke about hibernating."

He looked at his right hand, feeling something around his wrist: it was a large bracelet covered with colored beads forming geometrical patterns.

He remembered White Crow giving it to him before he left the Crow settlement. She had sewn a few of her hairs inside. "I'm going to miss her a lot," he said, sad.

Sensing her owner's sadness, Marmalade moved on top of his chest and nestled her head in the crook of Artie's neck.

Smiling, Artemus reached to scratch his cat's tummy, eliciting loud purrs. "Good girl…" noticing that AG was playing with his fake hair, he said, "I'm going to remove those strands of horse hair…"

Smirking Jim said, "And you smell like a horse too."

Hearing his stomach growl, Artemus finally realized that he was famished. "I'm very hungry..."

Standing Jim said, "As you know, I know how to use a revolver better than a saucepan. I tried to cook simple things when you were sleeping, but I managed to burn everything… even the fish for the cats. So I opted for the cuisine of the local saloon. It wasn't bad… and the cats loved it. But I prefer your gourmet food, Artie. So, are you okay to prepare breakfast?"

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Artie said, "What will you do when I die?"

Jim chuckled. "You will never die."

The end.


End file.
